


Never Goodbye Between Us

by Sarcasmcat



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canonical Character Death, M/M, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2020-12-24 13:29:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 38,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21100244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarcasmcat/pseuds/Sarcasmcat
Summary: Finding Orcs on the borders of Lothlorien is not unusual for Haldir.  What is, is the amnesic Man from Rohan they have captive and the changes he brings.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The start of this story is a few years before Fellowship and from there will rejoin the timeline. I apologize if things seem a little jumpy, but I was going for more of a short vignette feel for sections, or this story would have been a million times longer.
> 
> Enjoy!

Haldir stared down at the Man on the pallet of undergrowth and blankets he and his patrol had made in the roots of one of the great trees on the edge of Lothlórien. The Man was young even by the standards of Men, in his middle to late second decade. His face was flushed with fever, a bandage on his forehead to cover the large gash on his hairline.

He and his Wardens had found him on the edge of Lórien, captive to a group of orcs too stupid to know that steering clear of the trees was their only promise of continued life.

They had surprised the orcs, the creatures falling like leaves under their arrows. The Man had been at the edge of the carnage, his hands bound behind him with a rough rope hawser, the gash on his head dripping blood profusely. His eyes had been open but unseeing, words in a tongue that was not Common tripping from his lips.

The burning of the Orcs’ bodies had taken place beyond the edge of the trees as their healer had seen to the Man. Despite his abuse their guest had remained quiet and still while the healer had worked, obviously able to feel the difference between Elven hands and those of his captors.

After being given a cup of tea his mumbling had subsided though he hadn’t drifted off, instead staring at the nearest tree, blinking slowly.

Orophin appeared at his side. “We found no tracks beyond those of the group we attacked. I doubt these creatures are part of Sauron’s legion but instead a group who managed to waylay this Man.”

Haldir nodded. “To be expected, as we’ve known for some time not all Orcs have fallen under Sauron’s sway.”

Orophin shifted, a sign of nervousness rarely seen in him. “What are we going to do with the Man?”

Haldir glanced at his brother. “He is not well enough to be turned loose, and Man he may be, we have never turned our back on anyone in need if they are not a member of the foul people. We will take him to Caras Galadhon with us. I fear the Lady is the only who can be of any assistance.”

\-----

They were two days from Caras Galadhon when their visitor became more aware of his surroundings. He still didn’t speak in Westron, but it was clear when Tunoraad tried to get him into the litter they’d been using to transport him the last two days that the Man would not suffer to be carried any further.

Haldir waved the healer away. “If he wishes to walk, we will allow it.”

Tunoraad stood, watching warily as the Man struggled to his feet, grasping the tree for support. “You know as well as I that he isn’t strong enough to make it far.”

“Yes, but I have a feeling he is not going to understand that until he collapses. We will simply have to do things as he wants.” Haldir looked to where Orophin stood leaning on his bow. “Orophin, take point.”

Orophin’s gaze dropped to the man. “I sense your manipulative streak coming out brother.”

Haldir made a gesture that got the rest of the patrol up and moving. “It is not manipulation Orophin. He is simply going to have to learn the hard way what we already know.”

The Man watched as the rest of the patrol faded into the trees before glancing at Haldir.  
Holding out a hand towards the direction the patrol had disappeared Haldir wiggled his fingers, hoping the Man would understand.

Dark eyes stared at him before the man nodded and turned in the direction indicated. His steps were small and hesitant before settling into a long stride that wobbled.

Shaking his head at the man’s brashness Haldir followed two steps behind and to the left of the man, counting the minutes until the bruised and battered body collapsed.

It was nearly an hour later when the man finally lost the fight with his body. Body shaking, breath rasping in his throat he went down and Haldir caught him, sinking to the ground with the Man’s upper body braced against his chest.

Tunoraad knelt next to them, hand going to the man’s forehead. “His fever spiked again.”

Melting out of the trees Orophin leaned over to look. “I’m surprised he made it this far. I kept expecting you to call a halt.”

Haldir shifted slightly as the litter was placed on the ground, carefully easing the man onto the cloaks stretched between two saplings. “The race of Men is more resilient than we often give them credit for.”

He looked up at the patrol gathered around him. “If we push, we can reach the city by daylight.”

Looking up from pressing a wad of herbs into the man’s mouth Tunoraad nodded. “I have done the best I can, but he needs a healer with the touch.”

Orophin straightened up. “Then we will push.”

*

Haldir waved away the guards as they approached the city, ignoring the suspicious looks as they gazed on the Man. “I take full responsibility for his presence here.”

At that moment one of the young Elves that served as Galadriel’s lady-in-waiting appeared in their midst. “Marchwarden, the Lady requests your presence in her glade.”

Haldir nodded. “Thank you.” He glanced at Orophin and Tunoraad. “You two will see him to the healers.”

They nodded and taking the litter from their patrol members headed in the direction of the mallorn housing the healers.

Watching them disappear Haldir turned his attention to the rest of the patrol. “The rest of you are dismissed and thank you for your service.”

They scattered like the leaves driven by the wind and Haldir turned towards his meeting with the Lady of the Golden Wood.

\-----  
Nearing the glade where the Lady had asked him to join her Haldir shed his pack and bow though left his sword on his belt. He stepped down into the glade, pausing for a moment as Galadriel brushed her fingers along the leaves of one of the white flowering bushes.

“There is no need to skulk near the entrance Haldir. Your presence is always a welcome one.”  
Galadriel turned to smile at him and Haldir sketched a short bow to her as she moved to sit on the stone bench in the middle, her already ethereal form made more so by the sunlight filtering down. 

“I was not skulking My Lady, but did not wish to interrupt you.” Haldir moved to stand near the bench, hands folded behind his back. He had long served Celeborn and Galadriel and had grown used to her tossing aside the rules when it came to making reports.

She smiled at him and patted the bench. “We shall continue to argue semantics as ever dear Marchwarden, but please have a seat while we talk.”

Inclining his head in acquiescence Haldir perched on the edge of the bench and turned slightly to face the Lady. “What would you speak of My Lady?”

“Tell me of your patrol and the guest you have brought to visit our fair home.”

Haldir had also long gotten used to reporting military and patrol matters to the Lady, her mind as shrewd and cunning when it came to battle as to the other more mundane matters she managed inside Lothlórien. Her knowledge of all that happened within the woods was also of great benefit.

“As my lady wishes. We encountered the orcs on our northernmost border, camped just inside the trees. They seemed mindless of the danger possessed by the woods and had started a small fire. They were quick to fall under our arrows and we had no need to engage them in close combat.”

“It wasn't until we approached their camp that Orophin realized the pile of rags on the very edge of their camp was actually a Man. He had been bound and ill-treated, carrying marks of the orcs' fists as well as those from stumbling behind them on a lead and he had a large gash of his forehead. Tunoraad dealt with his head wound and simple bandaging while we dealt with the bodies.”

Galadriel shifted slightly, her fingers catching lightly at the sleeve of Haldir's tunic. “And why Haldir, did you feel the need to bring a Man to a place where few have ever been invited to walk before?”

Haldir met the lady's star bright blue eyes easily, knowing it was a test, one that he had never failed before. “Because the Man needed our help. He was not speaking Westron, but a language I do not know. In addition, he seems extremely addled, his gaze unfocused and he is fevered. Man, or no, he was in no shape to be left alone and I would have been remiss in my duties if I had allowed him to leave while so confused.”

The Lady's smile was bright, and she canted her head. “And that Haldir, was the reason my Lord husband and I chose you as Marchwarden so long ago. Your heart ever lies with Lórien, but you show compassion for those who most need it.”

Haldir dropped his chin to his chest, fighting the blush he could feel staining his cheeks. He had long known the Lord and Lady of Lothlórien held him in him in high regard, but there was a huge difference between knowing it and hearing it from the Lady herself. “Your gratitude humbles me Lady Galadriel.”

Her laughter rang through the glade like a bell. “You Haldir, are one of the humblest of our kind. Would you be willing to stay in Caras Galadhon for the time being? I am well aware of the fact you; your brothers and the rest of your patrol could use a rest. In addition, you are one of the few here who speak Westron and I think it would be best if you were here to explain to him his circumstances.”

Standing Haldir sketched a bow. “Your wish is my command my Lady, as always.”

Galadriel also stood, reaching out with one hand to touch Haldir's hair. “Never have I commanded Haldir, simply used gentle prodding. Now go rest before our guest awakens.”

\-----

Haldir had barely entered his talan and shed his pack and hung his weapons from their rack before Rúmil appeared at the hatch. “Orophin sent me. It seems your foundling woke briefly when they reached the healers and he is coming around again since they closed his wound and Celebeme wants you there. It would be better for him to hear what has happened rather than the gesturing the healers have been using.” 

Sparing a glance down at his tunic which had seen better days Haldir waved a hand in his brother’s direction. Much as he longed for comfort of hot water and clothing not the grey of the Wardens, his guest’s comfort superseded his own.

They descended to the walkways weaving among the trees together and as they turned towards the healers’ talans, Haldir wondered why his brother was coming with him. “Do you not have business of your own to attend to?”

Rúmil shrugged, the faintest hint of a grin twisting his lips. “I would see the pup you have adopted.”

Reaching the ladder of the talan Haldir turned a scathing look on his brother. “I have hardly adopted him. It is not our way to abandon those in need and the man’s need was desperate.”

Haldir ignored the amused laughter as he scaled the ladder.

Inside Orophin was standing in one corner, watching as Celebeme finished checking over the Man.

Nodding to his brother Haldir glanced at their guest. He had been stripped bare, his modesty preserved by a sheet draped across his hips. Haldir slanted a look at the healer who was spreading a thin paste over some of the deeper scratches on the Man’s legs and arms. “I assume you had some consent before you stripped him.”

Celebeme looked up briefly from his work and nodded. “It ended with me practically naked before he got my point, but yes, he knew what I wanted.”

Haldir inclined his head slightly at the bite in the healer’s words. “Apologies. I simply didn’t want our guest to wake thinking we are prone to taking liberties.”

Mollified the healer went back to his work. “Accepted Marchwarden. He should be waking soon.”

Haldir’s gaze slid back to the Man as he took greater stock of what had been hidden under the tattered clothing. The Man was obviously a warrior, heavy with muscle through his broad shoulders and chest, flowing down into a flat stomach and lean hips. His legs and arms were equally strong and Haldir was willing to guess the man had spent great amounts of time in the saddle.

Celebeme had washed his face in the process of tending to his wounds to reveal sharp features and a short neatly trimmed beard and moustache.

Orophin sidled closer to Haldir and gently elbowed him in the side. “He is rather attractive for being a Man.”

At that moment the Man stirred, dark eyes fluttering open and Haldir nudged his brother. “Go and take Rúmil with you. No person should be inflicted with both of you at once.”

His brother disappeared down the ladder with a dark look, leaving the three of them alone.

Celebeme backed away from the bed and took up position in the corner opposite Haldir, giving the man room but staying close if needed.

Haldir remained still as the man sat up slowly with a grimace, one hand going to the neat line of stitches just at his hairline. The man’s eyes flittered around the talan, from the screen used to break the wind to the small cupboard that stood open displaying bandages and small vials and bottles containing all the trappings of a healer.

The man’s gaze finally settled on him and Haldir straightened under the wary look. “Who are you?”

There was an odd accent in the man’s voice, something Haldir couldn’t quite place. “I am Haldir, Marchwarden of Lothlórien.”

A frown tugged at the corners of the Man’s mouth. “Where am I?”

“Caras Galadhon in Lothlórien.”

Surprise flickered across the sharp features and Haldir noted the way hazel eyes clouded with confusion even as the man’s gaze flickered to Celebeme. It was obvious the man knew about Elves but had never been face to face with them before.

The man’s frown deepened. “And who am I?”

Shock froze Haldir and he glanced at the healer who was confused. _“He asked me who he is.”_

Celebeme frowned and looked at the man. _“No memory at all?”_

Haldir turned back to the man. “He wishes to know if you have any memories at all.”

Slamming his fist on the bed the Man bared his teeth. “Just a vague memory of him waving his arms and stripping and another Elf trying not to laugh. Beyond that, nothing.”

“Orophin sometimes finds humour in unfortunate situations. Might there be something in your belongings to give us an idea of who you might be?”

The man shrugged and looked around. “Perhaps.”

Haldir glanced at Celebeme. _“His clothing.”_

The healer nodded and handed Haldir a pile of ragged clothing with a small leather pouch hanging from a thong on the top. 

Taking the pile from Celebeme Haldir handed them to the man, ignoring the way they were practically snatched from his hands.

The man tossed aside the clothing without a second thought, his entire focus on the small pouch. Clumsy fingers pried the knot out of the thong and he tipped it over, a heavy gold ring falling into his lap. He snatched it up and stared at it for a brief moment before tossing it away with a snarl.

Haldir easily caught the ring and looked down at it. The center was oval with a knotted design in the background and a rampant horse on the front. Crossing he handed the ring back to the Man. “It appears to be a ring from Rohan, but I fear beyond that I can tell you nothing else.”

“Fabulous. I know nothing beyond where I come from and have no name to go with my lack of memories.”

Haldir watched as Celebeme disappeared beyond the screen, wishing he could do the same but knowing despite his differences, that even subconsciously the Man would take comfort from his presence.

The Man’s rage was oddly quiet, his body tense as he stared down at the ring, knuckles white from gripping it tightly. A myriad of emotions flickered across his face and eyes and Haldir couldn’t help but feel some sympathy for the man.

“If you would pardon my interruption for but a moment. I can’t help you recall what was lost, but perhaps for the time being I can give you an identity worthy of your heritage.”

Hazel eyes were skeptical, but the man nodded.

Haldir gestured to the ring. “The men of Rohan are well known for their combat skills and their horses. Many people call them Horse Lords and their skill in particular with the spear while mounted is unbeaten by even my own kind. Nastar is the name I would give you.”

“Which means?”

Unable to keep from smiling at the impatience in the man’s voice Haldir canted his head forward. “It means spearhead in my language. You are obviously a warrior, and there is little doubt in my mind that you were one of your peoples’ foremost defenders, willing to give your life to save them. It seems apt, despite the fact I know little about you.”

A faint smile teased the man’s mouth. “I suppose, in light of having nothing else, it will have to do.”

\-----

Nastar glanced to where the healer was sitting in the corner, working with plants and a small mortar and pestle. The Elf had been at it since before he’d woken, carefully grinding up and packaging the resulting powders into vials and paper packets. He’d disappeared briefly and returned with food and that had been hours earlier. The feeling of restlessness that had settled on him since awakening four days earlier was driving him crazy.

He looked out over Caras Galadhon, the great trees and the talans littering the branches, the Elves moving about the city on their business.

There was a creak from the ladder leading up to the talan and Nastar looked to the hatch to find Haldir appearing, dressed in the grey of the Wardens. “Good afternoon Haldir.”

The Elf nodded to him before looking to where Celebeme was sitting. “Is he well enough to be released from your care?”

Celebeme nodded without looking up from his work. “There have been no ill signs except for his amnesia. He could have left two days ago. Lady Galadriel had some clothing sent over for him yesterday.”

“Thank you Celebeme, for playing host to him for these past days.”

Haldir turned back to Nastar. “Celebeme says beyond your amnesia you have no lingering damage from your attack and that you are free to leave the healers talans.”

The man snorted. “Ah yes, from one place to another, like an unwanted family member being hidden away.”

Smiling Haldir moved to the cabinet to retrieve Nastar’s clothing. “I have tried to hide my brothers, but they keep getting out. And I arranged for you to have a talan near mine and I will be spending the next week or so as your guide until you feel more comfortable with the city.”

He handed the clothing over before stepping back and turning away to give the Man privacy. There was the rustle of Nastar getting out of the bed and then of clothing brushing over skin.

Turning back to find the Man fully dressed he gestured him towards the hatch. “If you would descend first.”

Nastar did, with surprising grace for someone who didn’t live using ladders on a regular basis. 

Once on the ground Haldir headed down the long curving staircase. “This mallorn houses the talans belonging to the healers and others who practice the healing arts. Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel have their own home in the stand of mallorns in the middle of the city. Some families opt to all share a tree, entire generations living in a single tree. There are other sections of the city that house the craftsmen and artisans of our kind and others that are simply housing.” He glanced at the Man. “You are not afraid of heights?”

“No. While I have never been in such large trees I have stood on the edge of cliffs with no problems.”

Haldir nodded as he started up another staircase. “Good. Our talans are rather high in this mallorn.”

Silence descended as they climbed the stairs until they came to a talan a little over halfway up the tree. Haldir let Nastar lead up the ladder and stayed back as the Man looked over his residence.

It was fairly simple with a bed, a screen that could be moved around to block the wind, a cabinet for storing things and a low table that had a sheaf of paper on it and a plate with bread and fruit.

“Is it to your liking?”

Nastar nodded absentmindedly and moved to the table, picking up the papers on the table. “What is this?”

Moving to stand next to the Man Haldir looked over the papers. “It’s a primer of our language. Lady Galadriel thinks it would be in your best interest to learn the language as very few people in Caras Galadhon speak Westron and we would like you to be as comfortable as possible while you are our guest.”

He lightly touched his arm. “I must meet with my patrol. Do you need anything else?”

Looking up from the primer Nastar shook his head. “No.”

Haldir descended the ladder, glad the primer had made it over. From everything he’d heard from Celebeme when he’d been on patrol Nastar had quickly gone antsy everyday he’d been away but had been unable to ask for any kind of amusement. 

And now at least he’d have something to do while Haldir was away on patrol again.

*

“How is your pup doing?”

Haldir paused in fixing the fletching on one of his arrows, slanting a look at Rúmil who was seated next to them. There were days he wondered why he spent so much time with his brothers outside of patrol, but family bonds were strong. “Nastar is hardly a pet.”

Rúmil inclined his head with a faint smile as he worked on braiding a new bowstring. “That is not what I have heard from the rumours that have been spreading.”

“I would like to think the Marchwarden’s brother is above gossip.”

Rúmil adopted a wounded look. “I wasn’t gossiping brother. I was simply relating what I overheard while taking care of matters. But it is impossible to not hear what the others say about the brave Marchwarden and the brooding Man who follows him about.”

Setting aside the arrow Haldir picked up another. “I am sure brother, if you found yourself in Nastar’s position, you would also be staying close to the one person who you knew and shared a common language with you. It would make an ordeal like this somewhat more bearable.”

A hint of a grin pulled at Rúmil’s mouth as he bowed his head back to the string he was working on. “I feel the fact you speak Common is not the only thing your Nastar likes about you. From the few times I have seen him trailing after you, he enjoys your company much.”

Haldir reached over and picked up a feather, looking over the shaft. He had learned centuries ago to not rise to the bait when Rúmil was like this and he wasn’t going to start now. “It would be irresponsible of me to allow Nastar to wilt away in his talan during the day. He is obviously used to physical activity and being out is obviously doing him good.”

The Man was much steadier on his feet and had regained color. The wound on his head was nearly healed, as were the scratches on his arms and legs. It had helped that he had made sure food was regularly taken to Nastar when he wasn’t able to join the Man for meals.

Before his brother could say anything else Haldir pinned him with a sharp look. “No more rumor-mongering Rúmil. I would hate to have to reassign you to a different patrol.”

The threat was enough to silence his brother and Haldir settled back to work, warmth curling in the pit of his stomach.

*

“You have stables?”

Haldir looked up from the bow he’d been carving for years to his companion. Nastar was sitting in the corner of his talan, under the sun filtering through the mallorn leaves. The primer of their language spread on the floor around him, something he’d been working on diligently since the healers had let him leave their talans weeks earlier.

“Of course. Elvish horses are well known for their beauty, intelligence, stamina and speed throughout Middle Earth.” Haldir set aside the bow and tools, wrapping up the wood flakes in the cloth he’d been using to catch them. “I take it you would like to see them.”

Throwing down the parchment in his hands Nastar stood and stretched, lean body limned in hazy sunlight. “I wouldn’t have asked otherwise. I appreciate your help in learning your language, but I think I have hit a wall for the time being.”

Haldir stood and slipped on a pair of soft half boots gesturing for Nastar to precede him down the ladder. It was a quiet walk down the mallorn, the few Elves they met nodding with pleasantries, peasantries Nastar answered, even if his Elvish was still stilted. 

It gave Haldir some pleasure to hear those liquid tones coming from Nastar, no matter how stilted it was. There were few outside the Elves who spoke it, Aragorn who had spent much time among the Elves of Rivendell and Mithrandir, who had long been Elf-friend.

The stables were cool and quiet, smelling of all things horse. Turning back after opening the doors Haldir found Nastar standing at the entrance. His eyes were closed, head back and some of the tension had drained from his body.

“Did you wish to simply stand in the doorway?”

The look he got in return was haughty and brought a smile to Haldir’s face. It was obvious whoever Nastar was in Rohan he was used to being in a position of power and having others show him respect. He could only hope it was a sign his guest’s memories would eventually return to him. Celebeme had been unable to give him any kind of time frame for when Nastar’s memories might return, but Haldir was hoping, for the Man’s sake, soon. 

Nastar entered the stable and went to the first stall, which ironically enough was home to Haldir’s own mare, a fiery blue roan who barely suffered the touch of anyone but him.

The mare thrust her head over the stall door, fixing her dark, intelligent gaze on Nastar. In return he held his hand out to her, palm first like any experienced rider. She snuffled and lipped at his hand before butting her head against his chest.

Haldir smiled. “Will wonders never cease.”

Fingers working along the mare’s jaw and under her mane the Man turned to look at him. “What wonders?”

Moving close Haldir scratched his mare’s ears. “Arauka has ever had a preference for my touch and shied from others. The fact she welcomes your touch most readily speaks much for your character.”

A blush painted the Man’s cheeks and he turned his full attention back to giving Arauka all the attention she seemed to think was her due. 

Haldir touched Nastar’s shoulder. “I have matters I need to attend to this afternoon, but you are welcome to stay here as long as you like. You will be able to get back to your talan?”

Unlatching the door to Arauka’s stall Nastar slipped in, hands sliding over her withers and back, her skin shivering under his hands. “Across the glade and up the nearest Mallorn, my talan three twists above the lowest, just below yours.”

“Strong of character and direction.” Haldir drew back. “I shall have much free time tomorrow if you wish to explore more of Lothlórien from horseback.”

Nastar smiled though it was preoccupied as he bent to feel Arauka’s legs. “That would please me. “

Closing the stall door Haldir nodded. “As it would I. Until this evening.” 

\-----

Haldir knocked once before entering Nastar’s talan. As usual the Man was sitting on one of the cushions, a page of the primer in his hands. “Good morning.”

Nastar smiled as he set the page down. “I will take your word for it. I’m still having a hard time telling what time of day it is among the trees.”

Entering the talan Haldir sat across from the man. “It will come in time. The changing of the season is coming soon, and that will help. My brothers and I were going to have a small shooting competition. I was wondering if you would perhaps care to join us?”

“Yes.” Nastar set the page down before reaching for his boots and pulling them on. He got to his feet, waiting patiently as Haldir stood and made his way back down to the walkway. “Do you do this often?”

Haldir shrugged as he led the way down a well-tended trail. “Usually as a way to settle some kind of disagreement we might be having. After spending so many decades together, arguing loses some of its charm.” The path cut around dozens of mallorns, though besides them, the trail was empty of anyone else.

After another ten minutes of walking the trail opened into a long, wide glade, stairs leading down to the floor. The sunlight still filtered through the overhanging branches of the mallorns, but it wasn’t as diffuse as in other parts of the city. They descended the stairs to where Rúmil and Orophin were waiting. Next to them was a table with several different bows laid across the length, strings coiled neatly next to them.

Rúmil bowed in their direction. “Brother.” His gaze flicked to Nastar. “We’re glad you decided to join us in our leisure.” 

Haldir spared a glance for Nastar, noting the way the Man was frowning slightly as Rúmil spoke. His brother was being courteous, speaking slowly and clearly enough for Nastar to follow along. 

Nastar smiled. “Thank you for inviting me, though I doubt my skills will be of any match for yours.”

Gesturing to the table Rúmil stepped back so Nastar could get a better look at the bows provided. “Perhaps something here will be to your taste.”

Haldir joined his brothers, watching as Nastar examined the bows. There was one of the long bows they used for war, as well as the shorter bows he and his brothers carried. At the end was a smaller dark bow, designed for being used on horseback and Haldir wasn’t surprised the Man gravitated to that bow.

Nastar ran his fingers down the dark bow and picked it up. Uncoiling the string he quickly strung the bow and drew the string to his cheek. The pull on the bow was a little heavy, but nothing he couldn’t handle. He slowly released the string and turned to look at Haldir. “This one suits me well.”

Haldir nodded with a knowing smile. “I had thought that might be the case.” He picked up a quiver of arrows and handed it to Nastar. “Would you like a chance to walk the targets before we begin?”

The Man nodded, noting the closest archery butts and those further out, as well as rings at various heights hanging from the trees as well as a stand toward the end, with what looked like hoops on sticks, standing in a row. “I think it best.”

Bow in hand Nastar moved into the range, dark eyes scanning the targets. He knew he didn’t really have any chance of matching the Elves in archery, but he was going to make a good showing for himself.

Haldir watched as the Man moved through the targets with easy grace. He was acutely aware of his brothers watching him, and he chose to ignore them. They had already taken to giving him considering looks whenever they saw him with Nastar, and he knew what they were thinking. 

Nastar rejoined them. “I think at best I will manage to not embarrass myself with my skills.”

Picking up his own quiver Haldir slung it over his head. “I think you will be pleasantly surprised. I find archery is one of those skills that remains even when you think it shouldn’t.” He looked at his brothers. “How do you wish to do this?”

Rúmil glanced at Orophin who shrugged, before looking at Haldir with a sly look. “I was thinking we could shoot individually and then perhaps do a team pair shoot.”

Haldir pinned Rúmil with a look, glad his brother had slipped into normal speaking pace, leaving Nastar confused. He didn’t need the Man thinking he was a burden. “I expected better of you Rúmil.”

Ignoring the look his brother leveled at him Haldir turned his attention back to Nastar. “My brothers have decided we will shoot in pairs, as part of a team.”

Nastar’s hand clenched around the bow and he glanced at the other two before looking at Haldir. “Perhaps we should forfeit. My skills will likely cause you to lose.”

Haldir shrugged, the hint of a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “There is no need for such proclamations of failure. I have much faith in your skills, and I am a much better shot than both of my brothers.”

Ignoring the shocked looks, he got from his brothers Haldir gestured toward the first archery target which was some ten yards away. “Our arrows are banded with gold, theirs with silver. Would you care to take the first shot?”

Nastar nodded and drew an arrow, setting it to string. Taking a deep breath, he pulled the bow to full draw. It was startling how easy it was to remember it, the pull of muscles across his back and chest. He released the string and the arrow flew straight, catching the outside edge of one of one of the outer rings on the target.

Lowering the bow, he smiled wryly. “Better than I had expected.”

Haldir nodded. “Excellent.” He stepped up to the line and in one fluid movement drew an arrow, set it to string and shot. The arrow lanced straight, slamming into the middle of the bullseye. Moving aside he turned and pinned Rúmil with a sharp look. “Would you care to take your turn?”

Rúmil was looking decidedly less confident but he shot, his arrow just to the left of where Haldir’s arrow was. With a narrowed look and a frown, he stepped back and motioned for Orophin. His brother took more time on the draw and his arrow was closer to the center of the target but still not as close as Haldir’s arrow was.

Orophin shook his head and looked at Haldir. “Lucky shot.”

Haldir leveled a smug look at his brothers, noting the way Nastar was watching with an amused look. “Do you want to test that idea?”

Rúmil glanced at Haldir and frowned before shaking his head. “We can still beat you.”

“Nastar, it seems my brothers still think they can beat us.” Haldir glanced at the Man, seeing a flash of competition in his dark eyes and it kindled a warmth in the pit of his stomach. “Excellent.”

The next target was some ten yards beyond the first one and Nastar stepped up to the line, drawing an arrow. He set it to the string and drew back. A heartbeat later he released, and the arrow flew true, landing more toward the center of the target. He gave a satisfied nod and stepped back, flashing a quick smile at Haldir.

Stepping up Haldir shot, his arrow landing in the center circle. He smirked at Rúmil and Orophin before stepping back, knowing it would simply irritate his brothers. It worked, Rúmil scowling as he shot, his arrow outside the second ring, though Orophin still seemed unphased, his shot more centered. 

The next target was even further away and a good fifteen feet off the ground. Nastar stepped up to the line and drew an arrow, setting it to string and drawing, though he didn’t fire. 

Haldir rested the end of bow on his boot, watching as Nastar eyed the target. His gaze swept over the broad spread of the Man’s shoulders, pulled tight under the fine fabric of his tunic. It was obvious from his perfect form, and the strong curve of his bow that he knew how to handle a bow and to the greatest effect.

Nastar’s next shot was much closer to the center and he lowered the bow, turning with a grin. “It seems I am not as rusty as I had thought.”

Haldir nodded and drew his own arrow as he replaced Nastar at the line. “Take pride in it. You have just made my brothers question whether or not they can actually beat us.”

There was a sharp edge to Nastar’s grin as he looked at Rúmil and Orophin who were holding their own whispered conference. “Good. I would hate for them to have so little faith in the skills of Men.”

Setting his arrow to the string Haldir cut a quick look at Nastar. “You are an exemplary model of a Man and have obviously spent your life training to defend the people of Rohan. My brothers would be fools to doubt your prowess as an archer.” 

His brothers were giving him dirty looks, even though neither of them spoke the Common tongue and he released his arrow. It struck just slightly off center, but it was good enough and he moved back from the line, stepping out of Rúmil’s way.

Rúmil’s arrow slammed into the target close enough to Haldir’s to ruffle the goose feathers of the fletching. With a smug look his stepped back. “You and the Man won’t triumph as easily as you seem to think Haldir.”

Haldir moved to stand with Nastar as Orophin stepped forward. “I never said it was going to be easy, but I expected you and Orophin to try harder.” That earned him a look and Haldir smiled. There were times his brothers needed a little incentive to perform at their best.

\-----

It was mid-morning by the time they reached the end of the course, a target hanging from one of the branches high in the tree. The target kept catching the slight breeze, twisting and turning on the long rope. Nastar frowned as he watched it, eyes tracking the twists and turns.

Rúmil leaned on his bow. “Are you going to be able to hit it?”

Nastar pinned Rúmil with a look as he pulled an arrow from his quiver. He set it to the string and drew it back, holding as he waited for the target to swing back towards them. It reached the low part of its swing and he released the arrow.

The arrow arched through the air, the point just barely catching the wooden target. For a moment it looked like the arrow was going to stay, but a breeze caught the disk, sending it spinning and the arrow fell away. 

Shrugging Nastar stepped back. “I thought perhaps it would stay.”

Haldir touched his shoulder before taking the Man’s place on the line. “It was an excellent shot. I have seen others miss when it is barely moving.” 

His own arrow took the target near the center, sending it dancing on the rope until it slowed to a loose twirl. Stepping back Haldir looked at Rúmil. “Now would be perhaps be a good time to show Nastar your skill at this target.”

A gentle breeze had set the target swinging again and Rúmil’s arrow took it in from the edge, sticking, though it looked tenuous. Orophin’s final arrow caught between his brothers’ and he lowered his bow with a smile. 

Moving from the line he looked at Nastar and inclined his head. “Excellent shooting. Your skills with a bow surely surpass those of many mortals.”

Nastar shrugged, fingers running over the arm of his bow. “This bow was likely much of the reason I performed so well.” He glanced at Haldir. “Perhaps next time, something else, such as javelins?”

Haldir glanced at his brothers, who both nodded. “Then our next tournament is decided.” He looked skyward before turning back to Nastar. “My brothers and I are meeting the rest of the patrol. Will you be able to make it back to your talan without assistance?”

Nastar nodded as he handed the quiver back to Haldir. “I will. The path here was remarkably straight forward.” He motioned to the targets down range. “What about the arrows?”

Orophin leaned on his bow. “We will take care of it.”

Haldir accepted the quiver but shook his head when Nastar tried to hand him the bow. “It is yours. I find I rarely have need of a bow designed for use in the saddle. You would find much more need for it.”

The Man stared at him for a moment before smiling, hand tightening on the grip of the bow. “Thank you. Such a weapon will serve me well.”

He turned on his heel and started up the path.

Haldir set his own bow aside and moved to the first target to retrieve the arrows. He was aware of the way his brothers were watching him, both of them with knowing smiles. Ignoring them he pulled the arrows free and tucked them into their respective quivers.

Rúmil sidled up to him, ostensibly to help him collect the arrows, but Haldir well knew the look in his brother’s eyes. He tucked another arrow away before turning to face him. “Yes?”

“Do you think it wise to get attached to the Man? Someday he’ll regain his memory, return to his home, age and pass beyond this world.”

Haldir knew his brothers only had his best interests at heart, but they were usually clumsy about it. “Nastar is a fine Man, in both form and features, and in spirit. If I should decide to invite him to my bed, and were he to accept, that is between the two of us.” He looked at Rúmil and Orophin, who looked slightly like he didn’t want to be involved in this conversation. “I appreciate the concern, but I am more than old enough to make my own decisions.”

Rúmil patted him on the shoulder. “I have been duly chastised, though I wonder what the others will think when the Marchwarden takes up with a Man.”

Haldir thrust the last arrows into the quivers and handed two of them to Rúmil. He gestured for Orophin and started down the path, so they could meet the rest of the patrol. “Likely that this isn’t the first time.”

It seemed oddly convenient to Haldir that Rúmil had forgotten Nastar was hardly the first mortal he had taken as his lover. Not that it mattered much. His relationships were none of his brother’s business. 

\----- 

It was odd to be meeting with the Lady while not wearing the grey of the Wardens and Haldir tugged at the bottom of his silvery-blue tunic under the edge of the table, feeling oddly nervous. 

Galadriel was watching him from across the small table as she poured wine into two finely wrought silver goblets. “Such nervousness Haldir. This is most unusual for you.”

Haldir canted his head forward. “Apologies my Lady. I find your presence in private quite overwhelming.”

A soft hand rested briefly on his before drawing away. “We have known each other for many years Haldir. This once, I would speak as friends, without titles between us.”

The idea was an odd one, but the Lady had never been accused of being normal so Haldir simply accepted what was to happen. “Of course.”

Galadriel smiled and took a drink of her wine. “What can you tell me of our guest? We have not received any reports of him.”

Haldir smiled at the Lady’s words. He knew the only reason they had received no reports, is because they had asked for none. Despite the almost unknown occurrence of a man in Lothlórien, Celeborn and Galadriel trusted him enough to not worry about having daily updates.

“He is doing well, and I had him moved into the talan below mine for convenience should he need me. The language primer you sent over has gone to good use. My brothers and the rest of my patrol have taken to striking up a conversation with Nastar, so he might better learn the intricacies of our language.”

“I am glad. I would not have our guest feeling uncomfortable because he cannot communicate with a great majority of our population.”

Rubbing his fingers over the fine work on the base of the goblet Haldir smiled. “For being alone in a strange culture Nastar is proving to be very strong. However, he has no memories from before we found him with the Orcs.”

Galadriel frowned. “None?”

Haldir nodded and slowly turned his goblet though he did not raise it to drink. “No memories is not quite the right term. He remembers his native language, that of Rohan. His martial skills are intact and his ability with a bow is beyond passing for a man. And he manages to soothe our most fractious horses with a simple touch and murmured words, something even few of those who have worked with horses for centuries can manage.”

Galadriel rested her hand on Haldir’s, stilling the movement of his goblet. “And the loss of his memories is part of why you are here.”

“Yes. While it is true Nastar is settling among us as best he can, it is obvious to all who meet him of his sadness. He longs to return to his people, but I cannot let him go in good consciousness, for fear of him ending up in the same situation."

Drawing back Galadriel touched the ring on her finger. “Sadly, I cannot be of any help Haldir. I can read the hearts of Men, but without their memories to give shape to that heart, there is nothing I can see to help.”

“There is one thing I can give you though. He is a hearth fire, a light in the deep dark that is plaguing this world, and should you allow it, can banish the darkness that stalks your own path.”

Lady Galadriel’s advice, cryptic as it tended to be, was highly sought after and Haldir simply inclined his head in acknowledgement.

They finished their wine in companionable quiet and Haldir stood, bowing to Galadriel before making his way out of the glade. He had things to think about, and it would be easier in private. 

\-----

Once again dressed in the grey of the Wardens Haldir scaled the ladder to Nastar’s talan, knocking once before entering when he heard a welcome. The Man was seated on the floor like usual, the primer spread out around him, brow furrowed in what Haldir had quickly came to learn meant that Nastar had been working at the primer and grown frustrated. 

Gathering the pages together Nastar set them aside before standing. “You are returning to your patrol.”

Haldir inclined his head. “There is a pack of orcs that have been wandering the edge of Lórien. The Lady Galadriel would have my patrol and I set out to deal with them before they become brazen enough to enter the woods.”

There was an odd tension that settled over the Man at his words and Haldir risked a half step forward. “Nastar?”

Nastar shook his head. “It is nothing Haldir. I wish you luck on your patrol and hope you don’t run across any other unfortunates the orcs have taken as playthings.”

The words were sincere but there was something off, a tension in Nastar’s lean body Haldir didn’t like. This would be the first time in the nearly four months since they found the Man he would be alone in Caras Galadhon, but Haldir had done what he could to prepare him. 

Nastar knew how to get food and those around who spoke Common. Celebeme, the healer, had quickly learned Common after his game of charades with Nastar and had promised Haldir he would look in on Nastar while he was gone. Even knowing Nastar would have help if he needed it didn’t do much to make Haldir feel better about leaving the city. 

Haldir shifted his weight, gaze running over the Man. “I do not leave until tomorrow. Is there anything you can think of that you desperately need before then?”

Nastar shook his head, though his question did little to alleviate the tension in the Man’s body. “Nothing, I can think of, though I’m sure that will change as soon as you leave.”

“Should that be the case, seek out Celebeme. He has agreed to act in my stead while I’m gone. Seek him out at the healers’ talans and he will do his best to help.” Haldir could still see the tension in Nastar’s shoulders and he didn’t like it. “I would prefer to be able to remain in the city, but I have put off returning to my patrol for as long as possible.”

Nastar shook his head again, more vehemently this time. “No. I would not have you shirk your duty for my comfort, but I find with your impending departure, prospect of remaining here is a little daunting.”

Haldir felt a little prickle of feeling, though Nastar’s words didn’t deserve such a feeling. It was only natural the Man would miss him while he was gone. He had been the one constant since Nastar had woken in the city, the only person he could communicate with without resorting to charades. It didn’t mean anything beyond the fact the Man was grateful for his presence.

He reached out and caught Nastar’s bicep, squeezing once before dropping his hand. “This will be a short patrol. Five days or so. You will seek Celebeme if you need something? I would not have you live in misery until I get back.”

Nastar smiled wanly. “I will. You should get going, before your patrol thinks I am seeking to hold you up.”

Inclining his head slightly stepped back. He was likely already going to have to deal with his siblings. The rest of the patrol might think it, though they would never actually say anything. “Five days Nastar, and I will be back.”

“Be safe.”

Haldir nodded and descended from the talan. He did feel bad about leaving Nastar, but there was nothing to be done. While the Man was obviously a warrior, he wouldn’t be able to keep up with the pace the patrol was going to keep up, never mind being able to move quietly through the forest. It was simply safer for him to stay in the city, as much as it was obvious, he hated being left behind.

He joined his patrol where they were meeting. Everyone else was already carrying their gear and he picked his up, slinging his quiver over his head as he picked up his bow. He was aware of the way Rúmil was watching him, with narrowed eyes but he chose to ignore him. If he didn’t acknowledge his brother, it would make him instigate and Rúmil hated that.

Without an order from him the patrol started moving, falling into pairs with the ease of long habit. Orophin went ahead with a quick look at Haldir, leaving him alone with Rúmil.

Rúmil edged closer, his voice pitched low when he spoke. “No need to look so sad. Your pet will be fine without you and imagine how thrilled he will be when you return in one piece and seek him out.”

Haldir turned a bland look at his brother. “Nastar is hardly a pet. A fact you would do well to remember.” He knew what Rúmil was trying to get at, but he wasn’t going to give him the pleasure.

Rúmil looked at him for a long moment before shaking his head. “You deny yourself too much Haldir. I have seen the way the Man looks at you. I think he would welcome any advances you might make towards him.”

He too had seen the flicker of interest in the Man’s dark eyes, but he had decided if not to ignore them, not to act on the interest. If Nastar desired any kind of physical deepening of their relationship, it would require him to make the first move. Haldir refused to do anything to make the Man feel like he owed him for his safety. 

If Nastar came to him, he would welcome him to his bed, but only if and when that happened. “Again, I appreciate your concern, but none of this is your business.”

Rúmil shrugged. “Your happiness is all I want Haldir. I feel Nastar would go far towards making you happy.”

Before Haldir could respond his brother moved up to join the small group ahead of them, leaving him alone. Haldir shook his head and turned his thoughts to the roving orc pack. He needed to focus more on what needed to be done, rather than worrying about Nastar, who was safe in Lothlórien.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has read and left kudos. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Picking up his bow and quiver Haldir headed toward the mallorn where his and Nastar’s talans were. As much as he loved protecting the borders of Lórien, he was glad to be back in the Golden Woods confines. He and his patrol had destroyed two packs of Orcs who had dared to close to Lórien. There had been no signs of any captives with either of the groups, which had gladdened him.

They had enough to worry about protecting their borders without also having to worry about the depredations the Orcs could visit on the Men of the world.

Reaching the base of the mallorn Haldir started up the gently curving stairs hugging the great trunk. He needed to drop his belongings in his talan and bathe before visiting the Lady to give his report. Even after centuries of service to her and the Lady’s gentle reminder she didn’t mind if he gave a report after days away from Caras Galadhon, he couldn’t do it.

Her glade was a place of tranquility and beauty. It didn’t need to be marred by his sullen mood.

Haldir climbed the ladder to his talan with the ease of long practice and deposited his bow and sword in the corner. Gathering fresh clothing he descended the ladder and had just reached the stairs when Nastar came around the bend in the tree.

It was only quick reflexes that kept the Man from barreling into him and Haldir caught Nastar’s forearm, turning the Man to face him. There was brief flash of apology across the fine features of Nastar’s face, but it fell away when he realized who had caught his arm.

“Haldir!”

There was a wealth of warmth in Nastar’s voice and it sent a frisson of warmth down Haldir’s back. Others had shown pleasure at his return before, but usually without the undertone he heard in Nastar’s voice and it pleases him. He looked the Man over and smiled slightly. “I see you have not starved in my absence.”

He might have missed it, but there was a hint of a flush to Nastar’s cheeks as the Man shook his head.

“No. I was able to procure my own food, somewhat successfully, though Celebeme did have to help me once.” Nastar looked Haldir over. “I am safe to assume you and the patrol did not come across any problems?”

Haldir adjusted his grip on the bundle in his arms. “Two packs of Orcs, but they were dealt with.” He smiled slightly. “And much to my brothers’ joy, I did not find another stray to bring home with me.”

The mention of strays made Nastar smile. “I am one stray who is very glad you ignored your brothers.” 

“They hardly should have been surprised. I have spent centuries not taking what they tell me seriously. Usually they mean well, but Rúmil especially takes joy in trying to cause problems.”

Shifting his weight Nastar seemed to suddenly realize he was holding Haldir up. He stepped back. “I am impeding you from whatever your goal.” His dark eyes settled on Haldir; his gaze almost shy. “Would you care to have dinner with me? I would hear more of your patrol.”

“I would very much enjoy having dinner with you.” Haldir looked up, gauging the time by the fall of light through the mallorn leaves with the ease of long practice. “I will seek you out at the proper time?”

Nastar nodded. “I will be in my talan.”

“Excellent. I will see you then.”

Haldir resumed his journey. No matter what his brothers said, and Rúmil in particular, he wasn’t going to stop spending time with Nastar. He enjoyed spending time with the Man, for reasons other than what they seemed to think, and he wasn’t going to deprive himself of Nastar’s presence just to mollify them.

\-----

“You kept busy in my absence?”

Nastar nodded as he set his cup back down. “I spent some time in the stables and at the archery range. Celebeme came by and shared some herb lore with me, though some of it was already known to me.” He smiled at the surprised lift of Haldir’s eyebrows.

“The lore of Men is nothing compared to the Fair Folk, but it is required to stay alive. We spend much time from Edoras and often it is only our knowledge that keeps us healthy.” Nastar smiled. “I doubt I would be able to locate many of the plants Celebeme told me of, but the knowledge is helpful.”

Haldir refilled his glass, setting the ewer back down in the center of the table. Around it were plates spotted only with crumbs and the inedible parts of various fruits and vegetables. “Celebeme has many useful skills, though I wish I could convince him to come on patrol with me.”

Laughing Nastar shifted his weight on the cushion. “I would have a hard time imagining that. He seems much more comfortable in the Healing talans.”

“Celebeme has many skills, many of which might surprise you. Though he has always excelled as a Healer.” Haldir’s gaze went to Nastar’s forehead, where there was only the faintest hint of a scar was visible.

The rest of Nastar’s wounds were now mere memories, many leaving behind only the faintest trace of a scar marring his skin. In addition, he had also regained most of the weight he had lost when the Orcs had been dragging him. Despite his lingering memory loss, he had blossomed in the city.

Haldir leaned forward. “Perhaps we could have our javelin challenge tomorrow. We will be remaining in the city for the next few days and it seems like the perfect time. I’m sure Rúmil and Orophin will be more than willing.”

They undoubtedly would be, eager to prove to he and Nastar how their win in archery hadn’t been a fluke. He shook his head. “I will also warn you they will undoubtedly be insufferable about their victory over us. Rúmil has yet to manage to be graceful about victory in all these years.”

Nastar shrugged. “Perhaps we will be able to surprise them tomorrow.”

Breaking off a piece of bread from the plate in the middle of the table Haldir smiled. “I would like that very much.”

\-----

The glade that served as the archery range was empty as they approached and Nastar adjusted the straps of the quivers containing the javelins. He had pulled one out when Haldir had come to his talan and they had been perfect. Smooth ash shafts with long, razor sharp heads.

They were perfectly balanced and a joy to hold. Even better, it had felt familiar in his hands and that alone had been enough to make him feel a little more like himself. He had tucked the javelin back in the quiver with a quick glance at Haldir. The Elf had been watching him, a faint, soft smile pulling at his lips.

Nastar sat on the worn bench next to Haldir, legs stretched out. Resting the javelins against his leg he looked around the empty glade. “Perhaps they know they are going to lose and have decided to hide.”

“We could not be so lucky Nastar. Rúmil is taking his time, thinking it will work to upset us. Orophin is likely going along with it because it is easier than trying to fight with him.” Haldir perched on the bench next to the Man, keeping his true thoughts to himself.

Rúmil was lagging to give him some time alone with Nastar. He still wasn’t sure when his brother had gotten it in his head, he needed help with relationships. By now he knew Rúmil only did it because he cared, but that didn’t make it any less irritating. He would stand by his decision about Nastar showing interest in him before approaching the Man.

A few minutes later Rúmil entered the glade, Orophin at his side. He smiled when he saw them on the bench. “My apologies. I had not realized the time.”

Even Orophin had a pained look on his face at the lie and Haldir rolled his eyes as he stood. “I’m not going to dignify that.” He gestured to Nastar who had stood and was holding the javelins. “As you were so kind to let us start the archery challenge, it would only be fair to let you begin this one.”

Rúmil accepted a quiver of javelins, stepping aside so Orophin could take his. Haldir took his from the Man with a smile. “Thank you.”

Pulling one of the javelins from the quiver Rúmil held it up, checking the balance and Haldir leveled a look at him. “I have done nothing to it. You and Orophin will win or lose on your own skills.”

With a sharp glare Rúmil stepped to the first target and threw the javelin. It sank into the target, near the outside edge of one of the inside rings. He turned to look at the others, a superior look on his face. “Let the contest begin.”

Orophin’s javelin pierced even with Rúmil’s and he stepped back, gesturing to Haldir.

Haldir picked a javelin, glancing at Nastar. “Would you prefer to go first?”

Shaking his head Nastar smiled. “No. I would like to see what I am to match so we might win.”

Shaking his head Haldir hefted the javelin. It certainly wasn’t a weapon he used on a regular basis, though he was familiar with the mechanics and had occasionally joined in martial contests they held from time to time in this very glade. Adjusting his grip, he let fly, and it took willpower to not shoot a smug look at Rúmil when his javelin landed well toward the center of the target.

Nastar was more than adept with a bow, but he shone with a javelin. His first landed inside both Rúmil and Orophin’s, close to where Haldir’s had landed. He shook his hand out and turned, smiling at Haldir. “I held on a moment too long.”

Haldir shook his head, reaching out to touch the Man on the shoulder. “I fear you may prove to be better than us at this challenge.”

There was a charming flush across Nastar’s cheeks, and he ducked his head as he looked at Haldir. “Likely a fluke. I doubt my luck will hold out for the entire course.”

Stepping into Nastar Haldir dropped his voice, though he knew his brothers would still be able to hear him. “I very much doubt that will be the case, so show them what you are capable up. They think this will be an easy victory.”

Halfway through the course it was evident to everyone present, Nastar’s skill with a javelin was undeniable. His every throw was perfect, and the javelin never failed to hit the target, the blade sinking into wood with ease. Haldir was impressed and he could tell his brothers were as well, though Rúmil was doing his best to not let it show. 

They approached the last target, which was swaying slightly on the long rope, though it wasn’t as bad as the day they had been out with bows. Rúmil’s javelin stuck the middle of the outside ring and he sighed as he stepped back.

Orophin’s was a sight better, just inside Rúmil’s and he shrugged before stepping back, nudging Rúmil as he did so. “It seems we have lost this contest.”

Nastar’s javelin was a few inches short from the very center and Haldir’s nearly struck it, though the broad blade managed to bite into the wood. Clapping Nastar on the back Haldir turned to look at his brothers. “We are now even in our games. Nastar and I cede the choice in the next battle to you two.”

Haldir waved Rúmil and Orophin away, mostly because he knew his brother was sulking. “Nastar and I will take care of retrieving the javelins. Thank you for the contest.”

Orophin bowed, catching Rúmil’s tunic and pulling him down as well. He straightened up and turned him in the direction of the entrance, shoving Rúmil before he could say anything. “It was excellent.” His gaze flickered to Nastar. “Your martial skills are impressive.”

Spinning he continued to chivy Rúmil out of the glade, not giving him a chance to stop.

Haldir shook his head as he shouldered the two quivers his brothers had given him. “I believe I will have to do something kind for Orophin.”

Nastar approached the first target to start jerking the javelins free. “Why?”

Accepting the two javelins from the Man Haldir headed toward the next target, Nastar matching his stride. “Orophin has always been a buffer between Rúmil and I. No matter what is going on between us he never gets involved and always finds a way to smooth things over.”

He doesn’t add that Orophin is undoubtedly as tired as he is of Rúmil making comments about Nastar. It was a conversation they’d had several times when Rúmil was otherwise occupied and Haldir was glad to know Orophin at least had his back. Pulling javelins free Haldir handed two of them to Nastar. “We have been invited to a small gathering tonight, if you would care to come.”

Nastar smiled as he pulled the next set free. “That would be acceptable.” He glanced at Haldir, a warm smile pulling at his lips. “Not that I don’t find your company pleasant, but I’m sure by now you’re tired of spending time with me.”

Smiling Haldir gently nudged Nastar. “Despite your age, I find you far more fascinating than my counterparts. I have had millennia to learn their nuances and there is very little about them that surprises me anymore.” He’s gratified to see the flush on Nastar’s face as they approach another target. “You, I would gladly spend years with.”

Nastar ducked his head, hair falling to hide his face and Haldir’s smile widened. He did enjoy spending time with Nastar and even if their relationship never moved beyond this, Haldir would have been glad to know the Man. There was something about Nastar that made it easy to spend time with him and Haldir had quickly come to enjoy spending time with him. 

They gathered the last of the javelins and headed in the direction of the armory. The trail was mostly deserted, and they idly talked, about the changing seasons and horses, Haldir sharing stories of the passing centuries.

Once the javelins were safely stowed away Haldir lead the way back to the mallorn housing their talans, taking a wandering route that lead through Caras Galadon. They had time to spare and Haldir wasn’t eager to spend the rest of the day in either of their talans. Better to enjoy the day before the weather began to turn and grow cool.

He found some apples and handed one to Nastar. “There will be food at the gathering, but best tide yourself over until then. You would regret eating a full meal before going.”

Nastar took the apple, rubbing it against his tunic. “I believe you.” He took a bite of the apple, the sweet, tart flavor bursting across his tongue. Before coming to reside here he had eaten apples before, but was available in Lothlórien was far superior to anything he had ever tasted before.

They reached the mallorn and Nastar made a face. “Perhaps I should make use of the bathing facilities before tonight. I fear I may have exerted myself more than I thought during our little contest.”

Haldir smiled. “Probably a wise choice.” When Nastar had first come to Caras Galadon he had been surprised at the bathing facilities and how often they were used. However, it hadn’t taken him long to realize the virtues of regular bathing and now he made use of it like he had born to the idea. He ran his gaze over the Man. “I will come get you when it is time to go.”

Nastar smiled and reached out, catching Haldir’s elbow. “I will be ready.” 

\-----

Entering Nastar’s talan Haldir smiled. The Man was still working to fight with his hair, cursing as he worked out a knot. His hair had grown since they had rescued him two years ago and he had never once mentioned doing anything about it, so Haldir had simply not mentioned trimming it.

“Would you like some assistance?”

Nastar spun, relief flitting across his face when he saw Haldir. “Yes, please.”

Haldir closed the distance between them, plucking the carved comb from the Man’s hand even as he gently pushed his down with a hand to his shoulder. “It will be easier if would kneel.”

Nastar complied with his request, sinking to his knees with easy grace. “I was beginning to think I was going to have to shear it all off to get rid of the knot.”

“Then I am glad I arrived. It would have been a tragedy if you had been forced to take such measures.” Haldir tucked the comb under his belt and started carefully working his fingers through Nastar’s hair by sections, tossing each completed bit over his shoulder.

Once he was content everything was taken care of but the knot, Haldir set to work on it. Nastar’s hair was a little coarser than he was used to working with, but it didn’t take long before he had it all the knots and snarls removed. Only then did he pull the comb from his belt and he ran it through Nastar’s hair until it looked like a sheet of silk. “Would you like me to take over taming your hair, before you make any other rash decisions?”

Laughing Nastar craned his head to look up at him. “I would be very appreciative if you would.”

“You need only ask.” Haldir went to work, deft fingers separating hanks of hair. He quickly braided two intricate plaits, before drawing them back and fastening them at the back of Nastar’s hair. Adding a last one to hang loose he knotted it off before stepping back, fingers tracing a path across Nastar’s shoulder as he did.

Nastar rose to his feet and turned, holding his arms out. “Am I acceptable?”

Haldir ran his gaze over his companion, heat spreading through his body. Since he had arrived in Lothlórien Nastar had mostly worn just the pants, shirt and tunics most of the inhabitants of Caras Galadhon wore on a regular basis. Fine fabric, but easy enough to do most anything else in.

Tonight, he was dressed in the green and white of Rohan, the fine fabric draping his lean body. The inside of his tunic was lined with a darker red, showing only when he walked, where the front gaped a little toward the bottom. Dressed like that, with his hair pulled back and the candlelight it was like Nastar belonged here and Haldir could almost imagine what it would be like if he were to stay. “You are more than acceptable.”

Nastar dipped his head and glanced up at Haldir, a coy smile pulling at his mouth. “You are too kind.”

Shaking his head Haldir didn't say anything, realizing what the trap he had created for himself. Smiling he gestured toward the talan's door. “Come. It would be unseemly to be too late to the gathering.”

The night was comfortably warm and the paths through the city were mostly deserted, as the gathering they were heading to was hardly the only one. Most nights were like this, small gatherings throughout the city, usually with music and food, though some were quieter.

They reached a stand of mallorns and Haldir led the way up the gently curving stairs. A hall was built among the trunks, looking like it had been carved from and was a natural part of the trees. Silvery, waist high railings ran the length of hall, large, plush cushions dotting the floor. There were several tables of food littering the area, as well as several others with carafes of wine and other beverages along with glasses. Soft, luminescent light filled the air, casting soft shadows throughout the area. 

At the far end there were more cushions as well as several harps in varying sizes, as well as a few flutes and a small drum. Groups of Elves were clustered around the long hall, talking and laughing, some of the conversations so rapid Nastar couldn’t follow them, despite the fact he was far more fluent in Sindarin then he had been when he had first come to the city.

Haldir filled two glasses, passing one to Nastar who took it, eyes roaming over the hall and the groups. “It meets with your approval?”

Nastar smiled. “Very much. I come to realize I know many of those here.” When he had first come here, beyond Haldir it had been difficult for him to place faces to names, surrounded by so much ethereal beauty. But he had started to remember the Elves and after so long, even counted many of them as friends. Some spoke to him of Rohan and he knew many from the stables, who marveled at his easy way with even the most fractious of the horses in Caras Galadhon. 

Bowing his head Haldir took a drink. “Many of the those here are members of my patrol or their partners, friends and family. Celebeme is undoubtedly here somewhere.”

Without any noticeable signals a group of Elves broke away from conversations and settled on the cushions near the instruments. Catching Nastar’s elbow Haldir pulled him towards the railing and a large, dark cushion. He gracefully sank down on it, patting the rest. “Come, there will be time to talk later.”

Nastar sat down, glass held carefully in his hand. Settling with his back against the railing, thigh pressing against Haldir’s, he relaxed. He looked around the hall, noticing the way many cushions were occupied by at least two, if not more occupants. Orophin was a few places down, Celebeme and a female Elf sharing with him.

Low music filled the air, the flutes rising above, winding together and complementing the harps, underscored by the slow beat of the single drum. 

Haldir slanted a look at Nastar, who seemed like he was already enthralled with the music, eyes wide as he looked toward the head of the hall. Leaning back against the railing he smiled, watching the Man. 

\-----

A plate entered his field of vision and Nastar looked up to find Celebeme holding the plate, a smile pulling at his mouth. “It seemed you and Haldir were disinclined to move and after I put so much work into healing you in the beginning, I would rather you didn’t waste away.”

Nastar accepted the plate, balancing it on his knee between he and Haldir. “Thank you. I would have sought food, but I’m not sure I would have been able to gracefully rise from the cushion.”

Haldir smiled and leaned into him. “No one would laugh, at least not where you might hear it.” He plucked a piece of bread from the plate Celebeme had brought them. “Thank you.”

With a nod and smile Celebeme retreated to where he had been sitting with Orophin.

Nastar took a slice of apple. “This is certainly a cozy gathering.”

Haldir plucked a piece of cheese up and set it on the bread. “Such gatherings are not common in Rohan?”

Nastar shook his head. While the details of his personal life were still hazy there was much about life in Rohan he remembered. “We have gatherings, though far different from this.” He glanced at Haldir. “For one, they are much louder and crowded. As the drink flows it is likely there will be toasts given from the tabletops and it isn’t unusual to wake up on a bench or under the table.”

“Something you know from personal experience?” Haldir slanted a look at his companion, noticing the blush staining his cheeks.

With a laugh Nastar took a bite of his apple. “Perhaps. But no more than twice.”

Haldir could hear the lie in Nastar’s voice but he let it slide. It wasn’t really important, and he didn’t want to do anything to ruin the evening. He leaned back against the railing, smiling slightly when he felt Nastar shift next to him, settling more comfortably against his side.

They shared the rest of the food as the music resumed. Once the plate was empty Haldir placed it on the floor next to him. He gracefully rose to his feet and looked at Nastar, holding out his hand. “I would refill your drink, if you would like?”

“Yes please.” Nastar’s smile was easy and warm as he handed his glass off.

Haldir accepted it with a faint smile and moved to a table to their cups. He topped both off with one of his favorite vintages before crossing back to the cushion.

Handing the filled glass to Nastar, Haldir sank back down to the cushion. “Would you like some water as well? You have been drinking that rather exclusively for some time.”

Nastar shook his head, smiling warmly. “Not yet. I find I am enjoying whatever this is. It is a far cry from the cider and beers of Rohan.”

Haldir hid his knowing smile in a drink from his own glass. The wine would undoubtedly make Nastar regret his words eventually, but he would remain silent. Now wasn’t the time to gainsay the Man, not when Nastar was so clearly enjoying himself, if the loose sprawl of his body and warm smile was any indication. 

\-----

Orophin was suddenly at his side and Haldir tore his gaze away from where Nastar was with Celebeme to look at his brother. There was a smile on Orophin’s face and Haldir shook his head. “Not you too. I expected you to remain quiet on the topic.”

Shrugging Orophin looked at Nastar and Celebeme. “I have my own reasons, though I guarantee they are far more honest than Rúmil’s reasons.”

“Likely.” Haldir scanned the gathering, surprised not to see their other brother. “I had thought Rúmil would be joining us.”

Orophin laughed. “He was, but another matter came up.” He smiled as Nastar broke away from Celebeme, joining them with a friendly nod. “How are you finding the evening?”

Nastar shifted, leaning into Haldir’s space. “I have enjoyed it. It has been nice to have actual conversations with those I know rather than just a quick nod as they head off to whatever business they have.” He smiled. “The food and music have been equally enjoyable.” His gaze went to Haldir, dark eyes warm with something. “The company has been beyond reproach."

There was a single gliding note from a flute and Haldir caught Nastar’s elbow, turning him in the direction of the cushion they had been sharing. And he was sure he had simply imagined the way Nastar had jumped at his light tough, the way the lean body had shifted minutely toward him.

\-----

Nastar was a warm weight against his side and Haldir was loathe to move and wake the Man. Parties like this sometimes dragged on, especially when good company was involved, like this one and Haldir knew it was approaching the early morning hours. Add in that the drink Nastar had been imbibing all night and it wasn’t a surprise he was a loose and almost asleep against him.

Shifting slightly so Nastar was more comfortable against him, head on his shoulder, Haldir turned his attention back to the two flute players and harpists at the head of the hall. He recognized the song, a long lament about a couple who could never be together, and it made him think of Nastar. Granted, the only thing keeping them apart was his iron assertion he was going to wait for the Man to make any move.

He closed his eyes, letting the familiar notes flow over him. From there the music transitioned to another song about lost love and Haldir was starting to think the musicians were trying to tell him something. He wouldn’t put it beyond Orophin to have said something, or Rúmil having put this into play and knowing he would be caught. It would certainly explain why he had suddenly decided to not make an appearance, despite what Orophin had said earlier.

Finally, the music trailed away, and the musicians set their instruments aside, bowing to the round of polite clapping before moving away from their cushions. Others took it as a sign, standing and shaking out their clothing, exchanging pleasantries, gliding out of the hall.

Celebeme and Orophin stopped by them, both smiling slightly at the way Nastar was slumped against him and Haldir knew in that moment even the healer had some idea of his feelings for Nastar. Orophin gently knocked his boot against Nastar’s foot, smile widening when there was no sign of movement from the man. “Tell me brother, do you need help getting your companion back to his talan?”

“No. Don’t let Nastar and I interrupt whatever you two have planned.” Haldir shifted his weight, drawing a sleepy murmur from Nastar. “Good evening.”

They took the hint and left the hall, though Orophin cast a last look back at them.

Another group wandered past them, a few of them smiling when they saw the way Nastar was slumped against him. Haldir ignored them, knowing by now most of his patrol had a good idea about what was between he and Nastar, though none of them were stupid enough to mention it where he might overhear them. They were all aware of how much he valued his privacy about such matters.

Moving Haldir set his shoulder under Nastar’s arm he shoved, pushing the Man upright. It got him another sleepy mutter and he turned, kneeling on the cushion. He rested a gentle hand on Nastar’s face, fingers tapping just below his right eye. “Nastar, it would be an excellent time to start moving. The gathering is breaking up, and you will likely feel better if you were to get to bed.”

Nastar groaned and slowly opened his eyes. “What?”

Haldir sat back slightly, hand falling to graze his fingers along the line of Nastar’s cheek. “It is time to return to your talan. You have been dozing for the last two hours or so.”

With another groan Nastar scrubbed a hand across his forehead. “What time is it?”

Glancing over the railing Haldir could easily see the slow change in the quality of the light filtering through the mallorn leaves. “An hour until dawn.”

He rose to his feet, offering a hand to his companion. “You understand why I think it might be best for you to seek your bed.”

“Yes.” Nastar accepted Haldir’s hand, letting the Elf pull him to his feet. He rolled his shoulders, frowning slightly. “This must be the latest I have stayed up in ages.” Taking a step, he swayed looking surprised when Haldir caught his shoulders, steadying him.

Stepping back Haldir smiled slightly. “I doubt your sleep was enough to let the alcohol leave your system.”

Nastar smoothed a hand down his tunic. “No.” He laughed, looking at Haldir. “It has been some time since I had this much to drink. Surely not since I came here.”

“No, though had you spoken of your want of such a drink, I would have procured it for you.” Haldir cupped Nastar’s near elbow, gently using it to guide the Man towards the entrance to the hall. “We have many vintages I’m sure you would enjoy.”

Shaking his head Nastar leaned a little into Haldir’s steadying hand. “Not when the water here is so sweet.” 

As they descended the spiral stairs Haldir took the outside, keeping Nastar firmly between he and the trees, the Man’s hand trailing over the smooth bark as they made their way down. Once they were back on the ground Nastar seemed steadier, though he was still moving much slower than usual. Haldir saw no need to hurry him, as the predawn air was cool and refreshing, a welcome change from the hall.

They reached the tree bearing their talans and again Haldir kept Nastar to the inside. He had seemed to become steadier as they had wound their way through Caras Galadhon, but he was taking no chances.

Nastar made it into his talan with little issue and Haldir followed him, wanting to make sure the Man would be good for the night. Lingering near the entrance Haldir watched as he made his way to the pallet. With slow fingers Nastar removed the belt and dropped it to the floor. His hands worked loose his tunic and he shrugged it off, draping it over the chest near his bed, leaving him clad in the fine, loose shirt.

Seeing the Man was steadier on his feet Haldir spun on his heel. He would check on Nastar in the morning but right now, it seemed like he would be able to settle in for some sleep.

“Haldir.”

At the sound of his name he turned to look at Nastar. The Man was watching him, his face open, an emotion Haldir wasn’t sure he wanted to acknowledge, or could name on his face. He was of half a mind to step forward and rest a hand on Nastar’s chest, but he didn’t. 

His companion was easily still clouded by the alcohol he had imbibed, and he wanted anything that might happen do so with both of them in their right mind. Instead he settled for taking a partial step closer. “Yes?”

Nastar shook his head, smiling as he looked at the Elf. “Thank you, for tonight and everything else.”

The words hung in the air between them and Haldir could tell Nastar wanted to continue but wasn’t sure what else to say. Giving in to temptation he closed the distance between them, resting his hand on Nastar’s chest. The Man’s heat bled into his hand and Haldir looked up at him. 

“You are welcome Nastar.” He patted his chest before stepping back. “I will come by later and check on you?”

Nastar laughed, the sound loud and easy. “That would be a good idea. I might be curled up under my blankets, wishing I wasn’t still alive.”

Haldir stepped back. “Rest assured, I have a remedy that would wake those who have slept for centuries. Sleep well.”

Leaving the talan Haldir took the stairs up, feeling more off balance than he had in centuries.

\-----

Ewer of water in hand Haldir stepped into Nastar’s talan, making sure to scuff his boot against the floor. The last thing he wanted to do was startle the Man into a sudden movement. He had heard enough tales of the ills Men suffered from excess drinking and he was in no hurry to cause Nastar such anguish.

There was a muffled groan from the mass of blankets on the pallet and Haldir padded across to it. He went to his knees next to Nastar, flicking back the top blanket. Underneath that was Nastar’s head, hair still pulled back into braids, blanket up around his face. “Do you yet live?”

Nastar groaned and shifted, blinking blearily up at Haldir. “I do, though not gladly. Perhaps I should have accepted your offer of water.”

Raising the ewer Haldir rested the cool stone against Nastar’s temple. “Then I’m sure you will have no problems finishing what I have brought for you. Once you finish, we can seek some food and perhaps find a way to occupy the day that will do nothing to aggravate your head further.”

Some of the tension drained from Nastar and he shifted, sitting up with a groan. “I will drink whatever you give me, on the off chance it will quell the stampede of horses in my head.”

Haldir smiled slightly, taking the glass from the nearby small table. Filling it to the brim he passed it into Nastar’s waiting hands. “The whole ewer, if you please. Perhaps another bath would also ease some of your ailments.”

Nastar drained the glass in one long draught, holding it out to have it refilled. “My thanks.”

Setting the ewer down next to the pallet Haldir rose. “Finish that while I go speak with Celebeme. Once I have returned, we shall move on.”

Nodding Nastar looked up at Haldir, and he swore there was a flash of whatever emotion had been there last night, in the Man’s dark eyes. “I will endeavor to stay awake while you are gone, though I make no promises.”

Haldir smiled. “At least finish the water, if nothing else. It will help.”

Nastar lifted the glass in salute. “I shall endeavor to do so.”

Shaking his head, a slight smile pulling at his mouth Haldir turned and left the talan.

\-----

Haldir ascended the mallorn to Nastar’s talan, knocking when he reached it. Hearing a muffled ‘enter’ he stepped onto the platform. The Man was sitting on the floor, long legs stretched out in front of him and he was rolling his ring between his fingers. There was a darkness clouding his face and Haldir didn’t like the look of it. This wasn’t the first time he had noticed it on Nastar, but this was the worst he had ever been, and it made his stomach do slow roll of unease.

Crossing the floor, he gently nudged the bottom of the Man’s boot. “Come.”

Nastar looked up at him. “Where?”

“To the stable. Remaining here wallowing in your grief will do you no good.” Haldir stepped back, gesturing to hatch. “Leaving the city will undoubtedly make you feel better.”

Nastar glared up at him and looked like he wanted to disagree, but he finally relented. Tucking the ring back into the pouch he still wore he shoved it under his shirt and tunic before rising to his feet. “As always your wisdom is sound.”

Haldir followed Nastar down the ladder and fell into step with the Man as they started down the broad stairs. “I have had a long time to develop my wisdom.” He glanced at Nastar, glad to see some of the darkness had fallen away, though there were still signs of it in the delicate skin around his eyes. “You are troubled.”

Nastar started before shrugging. “Burdened by my thoughts, though that is nothing new. I have been here for nearly half a year and have no signs of my memories returning.”

He managed a wry smile as they reached the bottom of the mallorn and turned on the path leading to the stables. “That is not to say I do not appreciate the company or scenery. If not for you I would have been left to the mercy of the Orcs.” He swallowed. “And your friendship has been a balm and made my stay far more enjoyable.”

“And I have much enjoyed my time in Lothlórien and the beauty I have found here, but there are times I feel like the ghost of a person.” Nastar scrubbed a hand across his face and sighed.

The paths around them are quiet, for which Haldir is grateful. It is good for Nastar to get his feelings off his chest and Haldir didn’t want that to be interrupted. He had the feeling if the Man was interrupted, he wouldn’t continue.

“I feel like my memories are just beyond my reach and I’m getting tired of it."

As they neared the stable door Haldir caught Nastar’s arm, turning the Man to look at him. “Celebeme said memories are fickle things. They might yet return or are waiting for the right trigger.”

Nastar laughed harshly. “Or I shall live my life wondering who I am, trapped in limbo with only a ring to remind me of who I once was.”

Haldir stepped into Nastar, hand sliding up from his wrist to cup his elbow. He squeezed gently. “If that becomes the case, you will always have a place in Caras Galadhon and with me.”

His words seem to take some of the anger from Nastar and he rested his hand on Haldir’s shoulder, thumb stroking circles on the fine fabric of his tunic. “Thank you. This ordeal would be far less pleasant without your steady presence.”

This was the closest they’ve been, and warmth trickled down Haldir’s spine. “I must say, I am grateful for you as well. You give me something to do besides listen to the bickering of my brothers and I have had centuries enough of that.”

Nastar’s smile this time was genuine and he shook his head. “Perhaps you do have the worst of it. I can’t imagine having to listen to Rúmil and Orophin for that long.”

Haldir smiled as he stepped back from the touch on his shoulder. Entering the stable they headed for the stalls of their respective mounts. 

They saddled their horses in the dim, quiet interior of the stables before leading the mounts outside. Haldir climbed into the saddle and took up the reins, turning just in time to watch Nastar swing into the saddle with the ease of long practice. With a smile Haldir turned them in the direction of the trails through the mallorns that would take them towards Rohan.

Birdsong filled the woods around them and Haldir glanced at his companion. Some of the tension was gone from Nastar’s shoulders and the tightness was gone from his face. He had yet to ever see the Man angry around horses and it had been his hope a ride and time away from the city would help to ease Nastar’s ill feelings.

They reined in their mounts on the edge of the woods and Haldir looked at his companion. Nastar was staring in the direction of distant Rohan. The longing was plain on his face and Haldir shifted in the saddle. “You could return.”

Nastar turned, blindly scratching Arauka’s neck when she sidestepped under the weight change. “To?”

Haldir shifted the reins to one hand and gestured to the horizon. “Back to Rohan. You are well recovered from your injuries, in better health when we found you and well-armed. Mounted on Arauka, it would only take a matter of days or perhaps a week until you were back in Rohan’s borders.” He cocked a look at the Man, a faint smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Since you know how to avoid any orc packs that might be lurking between here and there.”

He and his patrol had cleared much of the area around Lórien, in an attempt to keep the Golden Wood safe. It had worked, though it was likely only a stop gap measure. As the power of Mordor continued to grow, so too would the Orcs become bolder. If Nastar was lucky, he and fleet Arauka would make it to Rohan safely.

Nastar shook his head, a wistful smile on his face. “I would like to return to Rohan, but it is a vast, sparsely populated country. I could easily spend years traversing it trying to find where I belong.” He slanted a look at Haldir. “It would seem like a better choice to remain in Lórien until I have a better idea of who I am.”

There was a hint of something in the Man’s words and it caused a warm bloom in Haldir’s stomach. He knew in all honesty, Nastar was just being realistic. Rohan was a large area to cover alone, and there were things that could happen to someone alone in the rolling hills. But at the same time, he could pretend Nastar was staying because he enjoyed his presence, that he was enough to keep him in Lothlórien.

Haldir rolled his shoulders and turned his horse back towards the city. “A wise decision. I would hate to have you run afoul of something.”

Nastar smiled slightly and there was something in it Haldir couldn’t put a name to. “There would be no Marchwarden to save me, so it seems wise I avoid traveling until I am sure of where I am meant to be.”

The thought of anything happening to Nastar made his chest clench in an uncomfortable way and Haldir shook his head. After the time the Man had spent here in Lothlórien he didn’t want to contemplate not having him here, or worse, something happening as he rode back to Rohan, leaving him injured and alone, prey for the Orcs who seemed to be increasing in number daily. 

Haldir inclined his head slightly. “That seems a wise choice.”

Nastar’s smile widened. “And your brothers would have me think I am not capable of wise decisions, given my age.”

Shaking his head Haldir glanced at the Man. “My brothers are many things, but not usually as judges of character. That or they see your taking up with me as an unwise decision.”

That made Nastar shake his head and he nudged his horse over until their legs were trapped together. “That is one matter I would be willing to argue with them and all their experience isn’t going to mean anything.”

Haldir couldn’t help but smile because he would love to see that, but at the same time he wasn’t willing to share Nastar with his brothers for that long. “Perhaps will shall avoid that. After all, you would be old and grey before my brothers would be willing to give up the fight.”

“They have remarkable persistence when it comes to some things. Namely worrying about my personal life and woes.” He looked at Nastar. “Shall we return to the city or would you prefer to remain out for a little longer?”

Nastar rolled his shoulders, pulling the reins through his hands. “I think I would like to remain out here a little longer.” He smiled, though there was a sadness to it. “I might not remember who I am, and Lothlórien is very beautiful, but the press of leaves and branches is overbearing. I prefer the open sky.”

“Then we shall remain out here until you are ready to return.” Haldir set his heels to his mount’s sides and the horse stepped out of the forest. He glanced back at Nastar who urged Arauka out of the shadows and into the sunlight.

\-----

Slipping from the saddle as they approach the stable Haldir glanced at Nastar. The Man was smiling, and the darkness from earlier seemed to be almost completely gone, though Haldir wasn’t stupid enough to think this ride was enough to clear the darkness plaguing Nastar. That wouldn’t happen until the Man had his memories back, but for now, the shadows were once again held back.

He pushed open the stable door, leading his horse inside as Nastar followed him in, Arauka trailing behind him, grey head bobbing. Nudging his horse into the stall he quickly unsaddled it, tossing the saddle over the stall divide before picking up the brush.

In the stall next to him Nastar was brushing Arauka, speaking to the mare in a mix of Sindarin and Rohirric, that rose and fell, filling the warm, quiet air of the stable. He fell into the sound of the Man’s voice as he worked at combing his own horse, brush gliding over the black flank in long strokes.

Haldir tossed the brush back into the basket, stepping out of the stall with a last pat to the horse’s neck. Nastar was still brushing Arauka and Haldir stopped in front of the stall, to watch his companion.

Despite the fact they were back in the city there was still a flush to Nastar’s face and even though his hair was pulled back the strands were tangled. Most mesmerizing though was the look in his dark eyes and the smile on his face as he continued to brush the mare.

It was obvious to anyone who cared to look Nastar cared for Arauka as more than just an animal and it spoke to Haldir. There were so many troublesome traits in the race of Men, but here with Nastar, he could believe there was some hope for them, that their ugliness wouldn’t taint Middle Earth.

Nastar seemed to suddenly become aware of his gaze and he glanced from him, brush never pausing on Arauka’s side. He smiled, but didn’t speak, though Haldir was well versed enough in Men to read what was in his smile, the line of his body and eyes, the quiet invitation.

It was what Haldir wanted before making any romantic overtures towards Nastar. Conformation that the Man was interested in him. There were many things Men found taboo and Haldir didn’t want to cross any line that might make the relationship between he and Nastar awkward. He had come to value the Man too much to do anything that might make him uncomfortable.

Stepping into the stall Haldir closed the distance between them, giving Nastar plenty of time to step away if he chose. Instead Nastar squared his shoulders, tossing the brush aside, still smiling. Haldir stepped into him, reaching up to cup his face, backing him against Arauka who had simply planted her feet, unconcerned with what was going on.

Haldir looked at Nastar, warmth pooling in his stomach. “Come to my talan?” 

Despite only being a little higher in the mallorn than Nastar’s, his talan was bigger and more comfortable, with anything they might need.

Nastar closed the distance between them, hands falling to rest on Haldir’s hips, fingers smoothing over the fine fabric of his tunic. “I would like nothing better."

Haldir stepped back, mourning the loss of Nastar’s hands as they fell away. He had always preferred to keep his relationships private, and this was certainly no different. With a smile he stepped out of the stall, Nastar following closely behind him as they made their way out of the stable and toward the mallorn housing their talans. 

The moment they reached his talan Haldir turned back to look at Nastar. Now that they were away from the stable, he wanted to give his companion a put a halt to things if he had changed his mind as they had made their way through the city. But he could still see the banked fire in Nastar’s dark eyes, and the Man stepped toward him, hands held easily at his sides.

Taking it as a tacit permission Haldir closed the distance between them, hands sliding up Nastar’s chest to the top tie in his tunic. He quickly worked the knot free, the strands dangling before he dropped his hand to the second one. “I had told myself I would change nothing about our relationship until I knew it was something you also desired.”

Nastar watched as he worked the second tie loose, a slight smiling pulling at his mouth. “Then I am perhaps better at hiding my feelings than I had thought. I have been admiring you for some time now.”

Haldir laughed, working another tie loose, leaving Nastar’s tunic falling open. He slid his fingers in, gliding over skin. “You have not. Rúmil never failed to mention when he caught you watching me.”

With a shrug Nastar rested his hands on Haldir’s hips and leaned in, lips touching the point of his ear. “Then I am glad he said nothing. I much prefer to have it happen this way.”

Heat swept through Haldir and he quickly finished untying the tunic, pushing it from Nastar’s shoulders. He slid his hands up under the fine shirt, skin hot under his fingers and it was gratifying, the way Nastar shivered under his touch.

Shoving the shirt up he laughed as Nastar shrugged to shed the fabric and Haldir allowed his eyes to roam over the lean lines and scars marring Nastar’s body. He was a piece of art and Haldir couldn’t resist, stepping into trace the scars with his fingers, watching the way Nastar’s skin and muscles jumped under his touch. Finally getting to touch was better than Haldir had imagined and he was going to remember this until he passed on.

Nastar tossed the shirt aside, dropping his arms to skim his hands up Haldir’s arms. He gently tangled his fingers in the fall of silken hair and bent his head, pressing a kiss to the corner of Haldir’s mouth. “I would rather be nowhere else.”

Haldir turned his head slightly, catching Nastar’s mouth in a languid kiss, fingers continuing to run over skin, drawing out shivers and soft sounds. Nastar stepped closer, hips pressing against him and he could feel Nastar’s hardness against him. Trailing his hands lower Haldir dragged his fingers along the waistband of the Man’s pants. He kissed Nastar again. “Perhaps now would be the time to lose our boots, before we become tangled up.”

They separated long enough to work their boots off and the moment Nastar had his kicked aside he stepped into Haldir, hands sweeping up his sides. He slid one hand in, finger hooking under the collar.

Haldir took the hint and shed his shirt, dropping it aside. Nastar’s hands immediately settled on his sides, fingers spread wide, dark eyes wandering over him. He let Nastar bear him down onto the pallet, the Man settling between his spread legs and he stroked his fingers down Nastar’s back, drawing a shiver from the body above him. 

\----- 

Haldir easily slid from the bed, carefully draping the sheet and blanket back over his lover. He picked up the first shirt he found on the tangle on the floor and slid it on. It was a little big in the shoulder, the sleeves a little too long, falling to cover his fingers. Nastar’s then, tossed aside in the heat of the moment. The pants that came to hand were his and he slid them on.

He sat on a cushion in the corner of his talan basking in the barely there breeze that ruffled the leaves, eyes locked on the bed.

Nastar had stretched out the moment he’d slid from the bed, long body sprawled across the bed. One of his arms was jammed under the pillow at an awkward angle, the other thrown across the bed. His hair, pulled loose during their encounter fell across his face, casting the sharp features into shadow.

Picking up the small block of wood he’d been working on Haldir let his mind wander even as he continued to work the block between his fingers.

In all his millennia in Middle Earth he’d taken many lovers, most of them Elven. There had been one or two Men he’d taken a fancy to in his travels, but the trysts had usually only lasted a few years before he’d moved on.

Even as he and Nastar had grown closer during the Man’s time in Lothlórien he’d never really given much thought to taking him to bed. It wasn’t that he didn’t find Nastar attractive, he did but at the beginning it had seemed wrong, the Man struggling with the loss of his memory and being thrust into the midst of a culture he didn’t understand. 

But Nastar had adapted with amazing alacrity, working hard to learn Sindarin and had spent hours in the stables, more than willing to work alongside the others. 

Months had passed like that and they’d settled into orbit around each other and Haldir had found himself spending more time with the Man when he was in Caras Galadon. His brothers had teased him unmercifully about it but Haldir had shrugged them off with the practice of years. They simply couldn’t see what he did.

He’d pushed his attraction aside, content to simply be friends with the Man until they had gone for the fateful ride.

The flush of colour on Nastar’s cheeks and the brightness of his eyes had been impossible to resist, and he’d been barely aware of his actions as he’d pressed him back against his mount, hands cupping that well known face. 

A groan from the bed dragged Haldir from his thoughts and he looked up to find Nastar staring at him from the shadows of the bed, a frown marring his brow. “Why are you over there?”

Haldir smiled and set the block aside and stood, shedding the shirt before slipping back under the covers as Nastar rolled on to his back, settling between the man’s spread legs.

“Just taking a quiet moment for reflection.”

\-----

Sliding away from Haldir in the bed Nastar pushed his upper body up on an elbow, his other hand trailing down the shallow indent of the Elf’s spine. A shudder followed his fingers and smiling he leaned in to press a kiss to the gentle curve of his lover’s shoulder, another tremor running through the lean body.

He knew Haldir was awake, having found early in their relationship that it was impossible to wake before the Elf, but it was nice for Haldir to at least play at sleep for him.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you.” Hand moving from Haldir’s back to his hip Nastar settled against the Elf. 

Haldir caught his hand and twined their fingers together before pressing back into the curve of his body, joined hands pressed against his stomach. “There was no disturbance. If anything, your presence is oddly comforting.”

Warmth pooled in his stomach at Haldir’s soft words and he swept aside the fall of his lover’s hair, nipping at the nape of the Elf’s neck, eliciting a soft moan. 

It was amazing, this beautiful creature who looked no more than thirty years but had seen countless things, both wonderful and horrible was so comfortable in his presence.

Suddenly overwrought with feeling he rested his head against Haldir’s shoulder and tightened his fingers against the Elf’s, moving as close as possible, needing the touch. “Do you have anything to see to today?”

Haldir’s hair tickled his nose when he shook his head. “No. I finished my business about the city yesterday.”

“Good. I don’t plan on letting you out of the bed.”

\-----

**“omer..wait for me! Don’t leave me.”**

**He turned to find a young teen following after him, her dress pulled up to reveal thin legs with knobby knees and pale hair a streak against the darkening clouds in the sky.**

**Tugging on the inside rein he turned his mount back, scratching the horse’s neck when it balked at being suddenly halted. His shadow stopped at his side, hands resting on his thigh, delicate against the battered leather of his armour. Her eyes were a bright reflection of the sky overhead, brightened with unshed tears.**

**He pulled his glove off and cupped her chin. “I promise I’ll return Éowyn. It’s nothing more than a quick sweep to check the outlying farms. We’ll be gone four days, five at the most.”**

**Éowyn nodded though it didn’t do anything to ease the pain in her features. They both knew it was an empty promise, that anything could go wrong on the Riddermark that could prevent him from returning home. “Okay. I love you.”**

Nastar came awake with a sharp gasp and hunched forward, hoping that he hadn’t woken Haldir even knowing it wasn’t possible. Haldir never stayed asleep if he woke in the middle of the night.

A warm hand touched his shoulder. “Nastar?”

Rubbing at his legs through the blanket he canted his head to look at the Elf. “A dream, though it had more the feeling of a memory.”

Haldir was pressed close in a second, lips touching his temple. “Is this the first one?”

Shaking his head, he blew out a hard breath and sank back into the bedding, Haldir following him down, close enough to feel his warmth but there was no touching beyond the fine boned hand resting on his chest.

“No, but this has been the most coherent. Everything has been voices or pictures, nothing to give me any idea of who I am.”

“And this dream?”

Nastar closed his eyes. “I was on a horse and there was a teenage girl yelling after me. Her name is Éowyn and I know beyond a doubt she is the single most important person in my life.”

The hand on his chest flexed briefly, expressing emotion Haldir would never admit to even as the Elf’s voice sounded in the velvet darkness. “Perhaps you will soon have your memory back.”

Twisting until he was lying chest to chest with Haldir he draped an arm over the Elf’s waist and pressed his face into flaxen locks. “Perhaps.”

And he couldn’t help but wish, like Haldir was that his memories wouldn’t come back.

\-----

Nastar accepted the staff from Rúmil and looked at the Elf before looking between Orophin and Haldir. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

Rúmil grinned. “You are so proficient with everything else it seemed time to see if you were as good with a staff.”

Flexing his fingers around the smooth wood Nastar shook his head. “I am from Rohan. Staff combat does not translate well to horseback, though I do know the basics.”

Stepping back Rúmil brought the staff up in a ready position, a faint grin pulling at his mouth. “I am ready.”

Haldir looked at his brother, eyes narrowing. There was something in his brother’s attitude, a little mischievousness he usually didn’t show in Nastar’s direction. A quick look at Orophin showed his brother was following his train of thought. Before either of them could say anything Nastar was swinging his staff.

The wood connected with a sharp sound that echoed through the glade. Haldir and Orophin stepped back, neither wanting to be caught in the way. Rúmil seemed bent on pushing Nastar to his limits, each of his strikes precise, forcing the Man to move quickly, the staff flashing to block each blow, though there were several times he almost didn't manage to make the block.

Haldir was half tempted to step in, though he knew Nastar wouldn’t appreciate the interference. He was fiercely independent, and many times had proven he was more than capable of keeping up with them, if only for a short period of time. So instead Haldir stood back and watched, ready to ream Rúmil if he did anything stupid enough to lead to Nastar being injured.

The bout continued and Rúmil spun, staff lashing out. Nastar blocked it and dipped his shoulder, dodging a quick thrust of the staff. His foot slid down into a faint dip in the sward, unbalancing him and he shifted his weight, staff coming up to catch another of Rúmil’s swings.

Nastar turned to adjust his footing and the caught the blur of movement of Rúmil’s staff as it arced toward his head. The thought to duck flickered through his mind but instead he barely got his own staff up, half expecting Rúmil to check his blow, as he had so many times before.

Instead the staff slammed against his head. He reeled back; pain bursting needle hot across his skull as stars swarmed his vision.

\-----

**“Éomer!”**

Head aching Éomer slowly opened his eyes, only to close them against the sunlight streaming down through the mallorn leaves. A light touch to the knot on his temple sent pain racing through his head and he groaned, nausea churning his stomach. 

“Nastar?”

The voice was familiar, Haldir’s, and the name but it wasn’t the right one, the one he’d grown up answering to. He shook his head, gritting his teeth against the pain the movement caused. “No. Éomer.”

The hand on his head slid back into hair. “Éomer then. I take it we are safe in assuming that your memory has finally returned to you?”

It was only at the last moment that Éomer managed to remember not to nod. “Yes.” This time he slowly opened his eyes, unsurprised to find Haldir kneeling next to him with Rúmil and Orophin behind him, Rúmil looking equal parts shocked and dismayed at having knocked him unconscious.

If Haldir was feeling anything beyond surprised at the sudden return of his memory Éomer saw no trace of it in his lover’s features. “I am Éomer, son of Éomun, and Third Marshall of the Riddermark.”

Haldir nodded though he didn’t move his hand away from where it was spread across the side of Éomer’s face. “A most noble lineage.” His soft smile was teasing. “One that has left an indelible mark on you.”

Haldir took Éomer’s hand and carefully pulled him upright. “Do you need to see Celebeme?”  
“No. I’ll be fine if I can lay down for a little.”

Rúmil moved to take Éomer's other hand, helping Haldir to pull the Man to his feet. “I apologize. I had expected you to duck away so I did not pull my blow.”

Dropping Rúmil’s hand Éomer gently touched the large bump forming on his head. “I can hardly hold you to blame. It was my fault I didn’t move fast enough.”

Haldir didn’t release Éomer’s hand, though a hint of a smile tugged at his mouth. “Never mind the hardness of your head. Let us go back to the talan before you do end up with Celebeme. I know he has enjoyed not seeing you on a regular basis.”

Éomer followed Haldir, not surprised when the Elf finally released his hand as they stepped out into a populated thoroughfare. He had long ago figured out Haldir preferred only the most platonic of touching while outside of the talan. “I can say I have been equally overjoyed to not see him either.”

Haldir’s faint smile widened before falling away.

The walk to the mallorn housing their talan was quiet, for which Éomer was grateful. His head hurt, and it certainly wasn’t helped by the thoughts swirling through his head, his entire life and the three years he’s spent in Lothlórien, with Haldir. It seemed impossible to think he was a prince, with a sister, cousin and uncle who were probably worried about him, if they didn’t already suspect the worse. 

By the time, he made it up the ladder his head was throbbing and Éomer sat on the edge of the pallet. He pulled his boots off and set them aside before flopping back, arm across his face. His arm brushed against the bump on his head and he hissed in pain.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, listening to the quiet sounds of Haldir moving around. He knew the noise was for his benefit and he appreciated it. There was a scuff next to the bed and he lifted his arm just enough to see Haldir kneeling next to him, a vessel cupped in his hands.

With a groan, he sat up and accepted the cup. It was full of clear spring water but there was a slightly earthy scent and he was sure Haldir had put something in the water. He drank it without protest, sure whatever was in the water was designed to make the ache in his head more bearable.

Haldir took the cup from him before pushing him back against the pallet. “Rest. Rúmil might have knocked something important loose.”

“My sister and cousin would say I have nothing important to knock around.” Éomer frowned as he gave into the gentle pressure on his shoulder and relaxed into the bedding. It seemed odd to mention his family here, after years thinking of just himself.

Haldir leaned down to brush a kiss across his mouth before rising in a single, graceful movement. “Some days I would agree with them, but now I would feel better if you were to rest.”

Trying not to move his head much Éomer relaxed against the pallet, arm thrown across his face. Pain radiated through his head and he focused on breathing, slow and even. He eventually dozed off, lulled by the sound of Haldir moving around and the wind through the mallorn leaves above them.

\-----

Éomer woke sometime later. Haldir was gone, but there was an ewer of water to his side, as well as a plate with a few pieces of lembas as well as some fruit. He slowly sat up, glad when his head and stomach only did a slow roll. Scrubbing a hand across his face he reached over and picked up one of the apples. 

He bit into it and the sweet, tart flavor burst across his tongue. Realizing how hungry he was he ate the entire thing. After that he ate two of the pieces of lembas as well as a second apple and a few fresh berries. It settled his stomach some and he drank half of the ewer of water, which carried the same faint earthy tang as the water from before.

Setting the cup aside Éomer took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders. He withdrew the thong from around his neck and removed the ring. Rubbing his thumb over the horse he couldn’t help but wonder about his family. After this long it was likely they thought he was dead and the thought of that hurt him.

When his parents had died, he had promised Éowyn he would never leave her. And he had kept that promise up until the Orcs had taken him and it hurt him, he had lied to her, even if it hadn’t been his fault. It had always been them and now she had been alone for three years.

He swallowed hard against the swell of emotion and tucked the ring back under his shirt. At this point he wasn’t sure how he was going to reconcile his two lives. Here he had Haldir and he loved Lothlórien, its beauty so very different from what he knew of Rohan. But his sister and people where in Rohan and he owed them his service and life. Personal feelings couldn’t and didn’t enter into it.

Thoughts in turmoil Éomer slid back down in the bed and drew the blankets up. The ache in his head was beginning to spike and if he was asleep, he didn’t have to think about how everything was going to change.

\-----

“You will be leaving soon.”

Éomer looked at his lover from underneath his arm. Haldir was standing at the edge of the talan, hands clasped behind his back, looking out over the sprawl of Caras Galadon. He looked beautiful, lit by the shadowy sunlight through the mallorn leaves. It made Éomer ache for the feel of Haldir and he pushed off the bed.

The world swayed alarmingly, and he shoved it away, moving to stand behind his lover. He rested his hands on Haldir’s shoulders, alarmed at the tension he found there. Leaning in he nuzzled at the tip of Haldir’s ear through the fall of his hair. “In a few days, after I shake off Rúmil’s hit. It has been three years and I’m sure Éowyn, Théodred and my uncle believe me to be dead. I can’t leave them thinking that.”

Haldir turned and reached up, tugging at one of the braid’s he had put in Éomer’s hair that morning. “I understand, of course. My jealousy is unbecoming.”

Éomer drew back, frowning. “Jealousy?”

Fingers stroking down the braid Haldir smiled wanly. “Jealousy is not just the purview of Men Éomer. Though we would like to believe we are above such feelings, we are not though we manage to hide it better than the other races. Is it so wrong to want my chosen for just a little longer?”

“No.” Éomer rested his forehead against Haldir’s head and closed his eyes. He longed for the familiar halls of Edoras and his family but at the same time the thought of leaving Haldir and Caras Galadhon was painful. He’d come to love this place like home and despite his yearning for Edoras and his family, part of him wanted to stay here. 

He slid his hand up Haldir’s back to rest on the back of his neck, squeezing gently. “Bed?”

Haldir nodded, hands going to briefly rest on Éomer’s hips. “What about your head?”

Éomer shrugged. “This is hardly the first time I have been hit in the head.” He smiled. “And I am feeling better, no doubt from what you put in the water.”

A faint smile tugged at Haldir’s mouth as he slid his hands up under Éomer’s shirt. “I knew you would complain about my remedy, so it seemed best to not give you an option in it.”

Lowering his head Éomer kissed Haldir before pulling him back towards the bed. “I believe I have said several times your age has given you wisdom I would do well to learn.”

Haldir shook his head as he worked at pushing Éomer’s shirt over his head. “Flattery has never gotten you anywhere.”

Éomer sank to the bed, pulling Haldir down with him. “No, but there is a first time for everything.” 

\-----

Groaning Éomer rolled onto his back. His head felt much better and he could tell by the light on his face that it was well into morning. He cracked his eyes open, not surprised to find that Haldir was already up and ready for the day. The Elf was sitting in the corner of the talan, a plate of food sitting next to his knee. 

Éomer pushed up on his elbow. “Good morning.”

Haldir looked up from the bit of leather he had been working. “Closer to afternoon.” He shifted, pushing the plate in Éomer’s direction. “Might I suggest eating and bathing. “The Lady Galadriel has requested your presence today.”

“Oh.” Éomer sat up and took the plate. In the three years he had been in the Golden Woods he had never once seen Galadriel. Not that he was really surprised. She surely had more important things to worry about than one Man from Rohan who had the unfortunate luck to run into a band of Orcs and lose his memory in the process. 

Haldir must have understood what he meant as he smiled. “Do not worry. Most of the rumors that have spread to the outside about the Lady are vastly untrue.”

Éomer picked up a piece of bread. “Most of?”

Glancing at his lover Haldir gracefully rose to his feet. “You will see what I mean when you meet the Lady. I have something I must do, but I will meet you here to escort you to her glade.”

At a loss for words Éomer could only nod as Haldir left the talan. He shook his head and started to eat, not sure if he should read anything in Haldir’s abrupt departure. After this long he thought he could better read the Elf, but now, he wasn’t sure. He knew his impending return to Rohan was likely weighing on him and he wished it wouldn’t. If he had no family, he would have been more than content to remain in Lothlórien until he passed, but he had his family and duty to his people to think about.

He finished eating and stood. Crossing to the chest he opened the lid and started sorting through the clothing he had accrued in his time in Lothlórien. Most of it was still in good shape, save the stuff he wore regularly when he spent time in the stable and out with Arauka. He passed most of it by to pull out the green and white he had only worn a few times, mostly for the rare times he and Haldir had spent time with the others.

Withdrawing the clothing Éomer set it on the pallet before filling the fine bowl with water from the ewer.

\-----

By the time Haldir had returned Éomer was dressed, in the dark green and white that was the closest he could get to what he would wear in Rohan. He had just finished pulling his hair back when he turned to find Haldir watching him, his dark eyes unreadable. “Is this acceptable?”

Haldir’s gaze wandered over the Man and he nodded as he looked at Éomer. “The Lady will find no flaw in your appearance.” He stepped forward. “Would you allow me to braid your hair?”

Éomer went to his knees in answer. He felt Haldir step up behind him and then deft fingers were easily parting his hair, putting in the braids he had become used to wearing, though he never managed them on his own. A few attempts and the amused look on Haldir’s face had been enough to let him leave the work to his lover.

Haldir finished the look with a last caress, his hand resting briefly on the back of Éomer’s neck before he moved away. “Come. We would not want to be late to your meeting.”

Rising Éomer followed Haldir down the stairs, doing his best not to frown. There was a tightness to the Elf’s shoulders he couldn’t ever remember seeing and it made his stomach knot up. He didn’t want to be responsible for any negative feelings Haldir was experiencing, but he couldn’t think of anyway to bring it up. 

The walk to their destination felt like it passed in the blink of an eye and Éomer looked at the beautifully carved stairs leading upward.

Haldir stopped at the top of the stairs. “I go no further. You must meet the Lady alone.” He smiled slightly, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “There is nothing to fear from her.”

With a nod Éomer started down the stairs, ignoring the low burn of apprehension in his stomach. He had faced certain death more times than he could remember and here he had nothing to fear. He was among friends. 

Stopping just inside the glade Éomer froze. Everyone in Middle Earth had heard stories of the Lady of Lothlórien but none of the stories he’d heard did the Lady justice. She was tall and slim, golden hair falling down her back in a pale wave. Her eyes were almost unnaturally blue, set in flawless skin and she was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen.

“Greetings Éomer, son of Éomun.”

Éomer bowed as she approached him. He was a warrior first and foremost, but he had been trained as the nephew and second heir to the King of Rohan and as such knew how to act accordingly when in the presence of nobility. “Lady Galadriel. Your hospitality has been most gracious.”

Galadriel smiled. “Caras Galadhon is always open to guests. I am glad you have enjoyed your time with us, though I wish your visit had not been under such circumstances.” She motioned for him to come closer. “You have enjoyed your time here?”

Éomer nodded. “I have. My time here will remain a fond memory after I have returned to Edoras.” He didn’t mention Haldir, though he wanted to. The Elf had been, not necessarily withdrawn, but had reverted more to when they had first met, quiet and watchful. It had been a surprise, though Haldir still touched him casually when they were in private, as though he was trying to store the memory away for after he was gone.

Galadriel smiled, soft and knowing. “Your presence has done much for the Marchwarden. Haldir has long served my lord husband and I and has much love for the Golden Wood, but there are times his dedication to us has been detrimental to his health. While you have been here Haldir has been different, in a very good way.”

Éomer ducked his head, not sure how to respond. To him Haldir is simply Haldir. The first Elf to welcome him to Caras Galadon, to make sure he was comfortable with his change of circumstance. He had done his best to make sure he didn’t sit around his talan every day, had brought him the Sindarin primer. Without Haldir there was little doubt in his mind his stay in the Golden Wood would have been a far different experience. Éomer knew there was nothing he would ever be able to do to let the Elf know how grateful he was for everything he had done. 

“Haldir was a boon to me when I was in need and there is no way I can think of to repay him.” Even to Éomer his words sounded hollow, because Haldir had become so important to him he knew he would never feel complete once he left Lothlórien. Even worse, he could tell by the tilt of Galadriel’s head, her sad smile, she knew exactly the way he felt.

Sweeping over to a bench Galadriel sat down and patted she spot next to her. “Come, sit with me Éomer and tell me of your family. I wish to know more about the Man who captivated the Marchwarden so.”

Éomer sat on the bench, hands resting on his thighs as he started speaking. This was only the second time since he had gotten his memories back that he’s spoke of his family. Each word tightened the knot of longing in his stomach. He couldn’t wait to return home, but at the same time he was almost dreading it. This and Haldir had been his whole world for three years and it was going to be hard to return to the rolling hills and plains of Rohan. 

Finally trailing off Éomer looked at Galadriel. She was smiling, so beautiful, but he felt nothing but gratitude toward her. “That is my story, for what it is worth.”

Her smile widened and she reach out, gently touching his cheek. “It was worth much, to know more about the Man Haldir chose.” She rose to her feet in smooth movement. “You are always welcome in Caras Galadon Éomer, son of Éomun. Safe travels.”

Éomer knew a dismissal when he heard one and he sketched a short bow before heading down the stairs. He was glad to have met the Lady, but it was an overwhelming experience he didn’t really care to repeat.

Reaching the top of the stairs Éomer smiled at Haldir, who was once again dressed in the silvery grey of the Wardens. “I would have thought you had other matters to attend to while I met with the Lady.”

Haldir gave a slight smile. “My brothers are organizing what we need for our patrol. They are leaving later today, but I wanted to ride with you to the edge of the Woods. Once I have escorted you, I will meet up with them.”

The area around them was empty and Éomer stepped into Haldir, one hand coming up to touch the Elf’s cheek. “I would much rather remain here with you, but my family and duty come first.”

Haldir pressed his face into Éomer’s palm before pulling away. “A sentiment I understand. I have spent time wondering how to keep you here with me, but I know that would not be fair to either of us. You have been long from your family and if you were to stay here, you would begin to hate me, and I would not be able to live having you hate me.”

Éomer leaned over to kiss Haldir. “I would never hate you.”

Stepping back Haldir gestured toward that path Éomer knew lead toward the stables. “Come. I will ride with you to the border of the Wood, where our goodbye will be more private.”

They made their way to the stables, ignoring the movement of the Elves around them. The stables were cool and quiet, save the sounds of the horses moving around. Éomer was unsurprised to find a pair of saddlebags next to Arauka’s stall, along with a sword in a plain black leather scabbard, a matching belt wrapped around it. He glanced at Haldir, noting the way the Elf was focusing on saddling his own horse.

Entering the mare’s stall Éomer scratched at the mare’s nose before quickly saddling her, setting the straps and tightening the girth with gentle pressure. She accepted the bit easily and he adjusted the cheek strap before tossing the reins over her head. 

He led Arauka out of her stall, following Haldir down the aisle toward the big doors at the back of the building, that lead into the woods without having to trail through the entire city. Éomer swung into the saddle as Haldir did, nudging his mount into motion, though he didn’t try to catch up with the Elf. He could tell there was something bothering the Elf and he didn’t want to interfere; despite the fact he was sure he was having the same thoughts.

Lothlórien felt like home now, which still felt odd. Growing up in Rohan he had thought he would never tire of the rolling hills, plains and Edoras. Now, after three years in Lothlórien he was going to miss the towering trees, the talans, the thick, rich smell of the loam and undergrowth of the great forest. He was going to miss Caras Galadhon, and even Rúmil and Orophin, not that he would tell either of them that.

Shaking his head Éomer stared at Haldir’s back, feeling like there was a block of ice in his chest. Part of him wanted to stay here, to spend the rest of his life in the Golden Wood, but he has a duty to Rohan and his people. But duty wasn’t going to make it any easier to leave.

Haldir reined his horse in just as the trees began to thin. Beyond them the land began to rise and fall, rolling into the hills and valleys of Rohan, Edoras to the south. Dropping the reins, he climbed down from his mount’s back, watching as Éomer did the same, with easy grace.

He patted his horse as he ducked under the animal’s neck, meeting Éomer between the animals. Stepping into the Man he curled his hand around his companion’s elbow, squeezing. “You know the way back to your kingdom?” When Éomer nodded Haldir gentled his touch, fingers stroking through the fabric of his shirt. “And you will avoid further encounters with orcs?”

Éomer huffed a laugh, dark eyes fixed on Haldir. “I shall endeavor not to.” He raised one hand, touching his thumb to the corner of the Elf’s mouth. “Thank you. Had you not found me I fear I would likely have ended up in a pot.”

There was a flash of distaste across Haldir’s face and he frowned. “I apologize, that was in bad taste.”

Haldir shook his head. “No. You are entirely in the right about your fate. We never did find what happened to the rest of the company you rode with. Though due to your condition, I deemed we did not have the time to backtrack to search.”

Éomer slid his hand up to cup Haldir’s face. “I knew then, though I couldn’t remember, that they had all been slaughtered. I don’t know why I was lucky enough to survive, but I will mourn for those men until I pass.”

“Perhaps you have a greater role for Rohan than you know.” Haldir rested a hand on Éomer’s chest, fingers rubbing at the fine fabric. “They are lucky to have you.” There are other things he wanted to say, but now wasn’t the time. For all his assertations to his brothers, he had never felt for another mortal like he did for Éomer, and he knew, with the certainty of his long years, there would never be another like Éomer.

Bending his head Éomer kissed Haldir, one hand curled in the silken fall of his hair. This was what he had been trying to ignore, the fact he was going to have to leave. He felt Haldir press closer, hands clutching at his clothing and he never wanted this to end. It was easy to lose track of time, sharing languid kisses, with muttered endearments and clutching hands. 

Haldir stepped back, though the reluctance was plain on his face. “If we linger much longer, I fear we will find it harder to part ways.”

Éomer nodded, though he was finding it hard to move. With a harsh sound he took up Arauka’s reins, rubbing a thumb against the fine leather. There were things he wanted to say, but he bit down on them, not wanting to break what was between them. He knew even if he lived to be older than his uncle, it would never change the way he felt about Haldir, but now wasn’t time to air those feelings. Not when he was returning to his home and would likely never see Haldir again.

Taking a deep breath, he took a step back, forcing Arauka to sidestep. “Thank you Haldir, for what you’ve done. I’ll never forget my time in Lothlórien, what you did for me, or you.” He swallowed hard and swung into the saddle, gathering the reins in his hand.

Haldir stepped forward, curling his hand over Éomer’s knee and squeezed. “Travel well and safely Éomer of Rohan.” He rested his other hand on the Man’s thigh. “Know that you will always hold a special place in my heart.” 

With a last lingering look at Haldir, Éomer managed a wan smile. He set his heels to Arauka’s flanks and she jumped forward, happy as always to run. Éomer let her have her way, knowing she would slow when she was ready. 

Behind him the great mallorns began to recede and Éomer felt pit in his stomach and heart begin to grow.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has read, commented and left kudos.
> 
> So, there's a time jump of about 3 years between the first part of this, and the rest and is noted by the line of five asterisks.
> 
> Enjoy!

Edoras rose out of the landscape like a beacon and Éomer drew up Arauka close enough for the wall guards to see him but not close enough for identification. Finally giving up on an impulse he’d been fighting for days he looked back the way he’d come, half imagining Lothlórien was visible. 

There was nothing visible but the rolling landscape of Rohan and sighing he set his heels against Arauka’s side, the mare leaping into a ground eating canter.

He pulled back on the reins as they approached the gate, the mare tossing her head as one of the two guards approached, spear held ready.

“Who are you to seek entrance?”

Éomer scratched Arauka’s neck as she danced at the man’s loud voice. “Éomer, son of Éomun.”

The guards exchanged a look and then one abandoned his weapons and went running up towards the hall while the rest of the men nearby crowded the gate, all staring at him.

He couldn’t blame them for looking at him like a creature on display. It’s been close to three years since he’d last been in Edoras, and he felt as different as he was sure he looked. His hair was longer than it had ever been, kept off his face by the elaborate chosen braids Haldir had put in days earlier.

The silk and velvet of his clothing was of Elven make and finer than most anything seen in Edoras but held up better to weather and wear than most Man made fabrics. And Arauka was just another thing to mark him apart, her lines showing what she was to the horsemen of Rohan. 

There was movement from the back of the crowd and the men parted to reveal Éowyn, beautiful in brown and blue like always. She shoved her way through the crowd, easily pushing aside the few men who hadn’t gotten out of her way.

Éomer dropped from Arauka’s back just as Éowyn lunged at him. He caught her and staggered back against his mount, Arauka a solid, unmoving barrier behind him.

Éowyn pressed one hand to his face, eyes bright with tears. “Éomer! When we found the remains of your company massacred and found no trace of you, we feared the worst. We had-”

Her voice trailed off and she pressed her face into his shoulder. He could tell the moment she lost the fight with her tears, the shudder that ran through her body and the sudden dampness on his shoulder.

Running a hand up and down her back Éomer pressed his face into his sister’s hair, content to simply keep her close until her tears ran dry.

A hand touched his arm and he raised his head to find his uncle and Théodred standing nearby, both looking happier than he had seen them in almost as long as he could remember.

“I promise I’ll explain everything later.” 

\-----

Everyone else had been sent back to their tasks, leaving the four of them in the field in front of Edoras. Éowyn was sitting in the grass, weaving some of the long grass together and Théodred was trying to get a better look at Arauka who was now stripped of her tack and grazing, moving away every time he tried to get close.

His uncle was the only one paying any actual attention him and Éomer shifted minutely, the intense scrutiny discomforting.

“Where have you been Éomer?”

It should have been easy to tell, the three years he’d spent in Lothlórien without mentioning the fact he’d been sharing a talan and bed with Haldir his last year with the Elves. He’d been paranoid about his family finding out about the men he’d taken to bed, choosing only the most discrete lovers.

Reaching up to touch the braids in his hair Éomer turned away from his uncle. “After the orcs attacked us, they took me prisoner, hitting me in the head when I fought back. I don’t know how long we traveled but we ended up on the border of Lothlórien. The Elves are extremely vigilant about their borders and one of their patrols found the Orcs and killed them.”

“The blow to my head caused me to become disorientated and the captain of the patrol felt I couldn’t be left alone. It was until a healer saw to me and I became more aware that I realized I had no memory of who I was.”

Éomer pressed a hand to his chest, over the small leather bag that still contained the ring marking him as a member of the royal family and now the small, dark, finely carved horse Haldir had given him just before he’d left the Golden Woods.

“The ring was all I had and even that wasn’t enough for me to recall where I was from. I was there for the last three years, hoping my memory would come back. It wasn’t until I took another hit to the head during a sparring session that I remembered everything. I set out as soon as possible.”

Théodred had joined them as he’d spoken though he was still staring after Arauka, having never gotten close enough to touch her. “So, your horse is Elven?”

Unable to keep from smiling at the awe in his cousin’s voice Éomer nodded and whistled. Arauka perked up and trotted over, swinging wide to avoid the other two men, butting her head against his chest and lipping at his sleeve, demanding attention.

Threading his fingers through her mane Éomer scratched her jaw before turning to look at Théodred. “Look all you want but don’t touch if you value your hand. Arauka doesn’t take kindly to being touched by many people.”

Théodred nodded, though it was obvious he wasn’t happy with not getting to touch. Despite his young age he was the Prince of Rohan and had grown up knowing how to ride and care for his mounts from a young age and being in the presence of an Elven horse was titillating.

Arauka tensed as Théodred came closer and Éomer stroked her jaw, starting a litany in Elvish that had the mare relaxing under his fingers and drawing confused looks from his family.

“My learning Sindarin was a necessity. Very few in Lórien speak Westron and I could not rely on my rescuer’s hospitality all the time as he his own responsibilities to the Lord and Lady without having to worry about a Man who was confused.”

Éowyn appeared at his side with a woven garland in her hands and smiled up at him. “The language is beautiful.” 

She carefully wrapped the garland around Arauka’s neck and withers, the mare remaining still under the treatment and only throwing her head once after Éowyn had stepped away but didn’t seem overly disturbed by her sudden burden. Éomer could only imagine it was because she was used to being decked out in finery even if it didn’t happen often.

And Éomer had long gotten used to his sister putting garlands and other bits of decoration on his horses, though she had stopped doing it several years ago. There had been one memorable time she had braided his gelding’s tail with ribbon and flowers much to the amusement of the Rohirrim. 

Théoden clapped him on the shoulder, his smile bright. “Come, let us return to the hall so we may celebrate the return of our kin!” 

Théodred gathered up his tack, as in awe of the fine Elven leather as Arauka, before scrambling after his father.

Suddenly overwhelmed Éomer rested one hand on Arauka and was barely aware of Éowyn’s hand slipping under his arm as she gently tugged to get him moving.

It seemed odd to be entering Edoras, when on his entire trip here he’d wanted nothing more than to return to Lothlórien and Haldir’s steadying presence. Now though, faced with the well-known walls and buildings he could remember why he’d fought the urge to stay among the great trees. 

He had a duty to fulfill as Third Marshal of the Riddermark, to protect his people and family. 

And it didn’t matter that he felt hollow as he passed through the gates of Edoras.

\-----

The night was half over and Éomer still hadn’t made it to his bed. It was massive, taking up a corner of his room and the vast spread of sheets under the dark brown blanket was far from inviting without the warmth of another body. He settled into in the single chair in his room, eyes still on his bed. 

It had been surprisingly easy to adjust to sharing a bed with Haldir, once he’d gotten over the shock of Elves sleeping with their eyes open. They had rarely spent the night pressed together, though they had always been touching, feet tangled together under the blankets, a hand warm on back or hip.

He’d grown used to having a warm body in bed with him and Éomer was trying to decide if he could sleep comfortably in his chair when there was a knock at his door.

“Enter.”

The door swung open to reveal Éowyn and Théodred, both still flushed from the party, but their eyes were drooping and Éomer knew they weren’t going to be with him too much longer. “Isn’t it past the time for you to both be in bed?”

Éowyn hit him as she entered the room while Théodred followed behind with a grin that warmed Éomer’s heart. He’d rarely ever played up the age gap between them, four years on Éowyn and eight on Théodred but now it was a comforting reminder of three years ago.

His sister settled in the middle of his bed, drawing the blanket up around her shoulders while his cousin flopped on the floor.

Éomer sat back down. “And what do you two think you’re doing here?”

Éowyn’s smile was sweet. “We want to hear about Lothlórien and the Elves.”

Picking up the tankard of water on the table next to his chair Éomer took a drink. “Okay, but no questions until the end.”

Talking about Lothlórien was surprisingly easy and hard at the same time. He was careful to avoid speaking Haldir’s name, simply skittering around his role in everything. 

They were in awe of his descriptions about the trees and talans, the craftsmen and healers and Théodred perked up when he mentioned the stables and the time he’d spent with the horses.

By the time Éowyn finally succumbed to sleep, curled in the middle of his bed, he was hoarse and Théodred was beginning to nod off. 

He stood and crossed the room, drawing Théodred up. “Come on. You at least need to go back to your room.”

Théodred leaned heavily against him as they made their way to the door, though he veered aside when he saw the small dark horse statuette on the table next to the chair. He picked it up, fingers gliding over the intricate details. “Who did you get this from?”

Éomer gently pulled the horse from his cousin and set it back on the table before nudging him back towards the door. “From a friend.”

An elbow nudged him in the ribs as Théodred smiled up at him. “A female friend?”

Opening the door to his cousin’s room Éomer gently pushed him in, warmed that his cousin finally felt comfortable enough to joke with him about women.

“No. From the captain of the patrol who found me. Now get some sleep before I have to explain to your father why you keep falling out of the saddle.”

Théodred nodded before frowning. “Where are you going to sleep?”

Waving a hand towards the main hall Éomer caught the heavy door and started pulling it shut. “I’ll sleep in the hall tonight.”

He closed the door on his cousin before heading for the hall, knowing there would be no sleep. Speaking of Lothlórien had roused feelings that would make sleep impossible. 

***** 

Standing in a corner of the hall, hidden in the shadows, Éomer clutched at his tankard. It had been nearly a week since the man in black, Gríma Wormtongue had arrived at Edoras. Somehow, he had managed to convince his uncle to take him as an advisor and Éomer was suspicious. There was something not quite right about the pallid man, but no one besides Éowyn and Théodred was willing to listen to his concerns.

The three of them had watched in dismay as a pall had seemed to fall over the king, his uncle’s vitality draining away. Lately they have all been turned away from seeking Théoden, though Gríma was always allowed access to the king, no matter the time of day. And to make matters worse, Gríma had been watching Éowyn, and no matter how many times Éomer had mentioned to his uncle, the older man brushed his concerns away. 

Éowyn came up to him and Éomer frowned, not liking the pinched look to her face. “What is the matter? Has Wormtongue done something?”

Shaking her head Éowyn glanced to where their uncle was sitting, Gríma hovering over him like a dark shadow. “No. Théodred should have returned from his patrol by now. You know that is one thing for which he is never late.”

Dread pooled in the pit of his stomach and Éomer thrust his tankard into his sister’s hands. “I will marshal my men and go looking for him. Stay away from Gríma.”

He left his corner, snapping names as he went, ignoring his uncle and Gríma. His uncle was so far gone he wouldn’t care that his son was missing and would likely only stare at him with pale, rheumy eyes.

He led the way down the hall stairs, and they all scattered as they entered the barracks, everyone quickly donning armor and gathering their weapons. A door at the end lead into the stables and Éomer threw it open. The horses used to such entrances didn’t startle and he strode to his own mount. 

He spared a pat for Arauka when she stuck her nose over the stall door, but he passed her by. For this he needed his war mount, something that was capable of fighting if need be and wouldn’t outstrip the others while they searched for Théodred. He quickly got his horse saddled and lead the gelding out of the stable.

The others weren’t far behind him and he swung into the saddle. Éomer set his heels to the gelding and it leapt forward. The rest were behind him and they burst out of Edoras, spreading behind him.

Éomer wanted to send a scout out, but he didn’t dare. The Orcs were beginning to grow bolder and he wouldn’t risk the life of even one more man, especially not when the fate of Théodred’s patrol was unknown.

He knew the route of his cousin’s patrol by heart and they headed on the path it would have taken leaving Edoras. There were signs of their passage around them, bent grass and spots where hooves had gouged at the turf. They continued to ride, Éomer keeping his attention on the ground, while others kept an eye out for any roaming Orcs.

An hour or so later they still hadn’t found any solid evidence of the patrol and had reached the point where they would have turned around. To their right a river cut through the landscape and Éomer lead the way down, letting his horse pick its own way down the narrow path. At the bottom the riverbed widened out and they headed up it, back towards Edoras.

Éomer knew Théodred made sure to come this way most days. Orcs had a tendency to follow it, both for the fact it was a clean source of water, but also because they knew how much the people of Rohan depended on it. For them, it made for easier hunting. 

They rounded a bend in the river and Éomer felt his heart drop. Bodies of men and horses filled the shallow river. Black shafted arrows littered the bodies and Éomer jerked his mount to a stop, hard enough the gelding’s head came back.

He swung from the saddle and dropped the reins, trusting his horse to not go anywhere. Ignoring the cold rush of water over his feet he started moving through the bodies, looking for Théodred. 

There was a body half on the bank, and it took him a moment to realize it was his cousin. Éomer dropped to his knees, rolling him over. Théodred was pale, and there were several arrows in him, the shafts broken, but he was by the grace of some god, still alive.

Supporting the younger man, he half turned, glad to see someone had thought to bring his horse up. Éomer gained his feet, and was horrified at how light his cousin felt, even with his armor. He got Théodred up on his horse, which drew a faint moan of pain from him. Holding him up Éomer swung up behind him and reached around to grab the reins.

He nudged his horse into a fast trot, knowing his men would follow behind when they could.

\-----

Éomer nudged his horse up to the bottom of the stairs running up to the main hall. He had spent the entire hectic ride to Edoras praying Théodred would survive the ride and alternately fearing his cousin would be dead in his arms. Keeping one hand on Théodred’s belt Éomer slid to the ground and carefully pulled the younger man down into his arms.

He hurried up the stairs, clutching Théodred to his chest. Kicking the door open he carried his cousin into the hall. Éowyn was immediately at his side, her face pale, eyes wide with shock when she saw Théodred. He glanced to the throne where his uncle sat, eyes staring at the end of the hallway. There were no signs of interest from Théoden and Éomer had to bite back on a flash of anger. Before Gríma his uncle would have been at his side in a heartbeat.

Éowyn pressed her hand to his forehead before looking up at Éomer. “He burns with fever. Any of the others?”

Éomer shook his head. “The Orcs ambushed them. Théodred was lucky to survive.”

It was a keen reminder of what could have happened to him if Haldir and the others hadn’t found him. Shaking his head, he headed toward his cousin’s room. He carefully set him in the bed and stepped back so Éowyn could begin stripping off his armor.

They were alone in the room and Éomer glanced around. He half expected his uncle to come in, raging and demanding to know what had happened. Instead there was just silence and it sent a chill of unease down his back. 

As Éowyn dropped the armor to the floor, he kicked it aside, watching as his sister pulled back the last layer. Without his armor Théodred looked small and colorless, save for the bright splotches on his clothing where his blood had soaked the fabric.

Éowyn fell back with a broken sound and she looked up at him. “I don’t know that he’s going to make it. Perhaps if we had access to a healer from the Elves, he might, but-” She trailed off, her eyes bright with tears.

Éomer shook his head, staring at his cousin. “We’re going to have to tell uncle.”

He didn’t know how much good it was going to do, with the daze the older man seemed to be living in. It certainly didn’t help, with the way he looked to have aged decades in the last few weeks, plus his normal stable mood seemed to have suffered as well. There was little doubt in his mind Gríma Wormtongue was behind it, but he couldn’t do anything to oust the man.

Despite Théoden’s decline, no one was willing to go against him.

Éowyn rested her hand on Théodred’s forehead, frowning. “Uncle won’t realize what you’re saying.”

“I know.” Éomer scrubbed a hand across his face. “But this situation is untenable. Something must be done, for the good of Rohan.”

Stroking her hand across Théodred’s forehead Éowyn nodded. “I understand. Help me make him comfortable and get something into him and we’ll go speak with uncle.”

\-----

His men gathered at his back Éomer couldn’t help but look back at Edoras. It hurt him to leave Éowyn behind, at Gríma’s mercy but exile was better than death. This way he could come back once he found a way to free his uncle from Gríma’s hold, to make sure the slimy little man never laid a hand on his sister.

Heart heavy, Éomer turned his back to Edoras and heeled his mount into movement. The men fell in behind him, those loyal to him. He gave half a thought to returning to Lórien, to see if Haldir or the Lady Galadriel had an answer, but he couldn’t. It had been three years since he’d left Lothlórien and he couldn’t be sure of the welcome he and his men would receive. Not to mention the fact the trip to the woods was long and dangerous and he couldn’t leave Rohan undefended for long, not after what had happened to Théodred.

Saruman would not gain a foothold in Rohan, not as long as he had breath in his lungs.

\-----

Haldir entered the Lady’s glade, unsurprised to find Celeborn standing with his wife, though Elrond standing next to Celeborn, dark and austere was a surprise. He bowed. “Lady Galadriel, Lord Celeborn, Lord Elrond.”

Galadriel stepped forward, holding out a fine boned hand. “Marchwarden. We are pleased you could join us.”

He inclined his head. “I could never ignore a request from you, my lady.”

Galadriel smiled, though it was sad. “This might be one request you wish to ignore. You know of the darkness stalking the land.”

Haldir nodded. It was impossible to ignore the way Sauron’s evil crept across, from the way the Fellowship had been chased into the safety of Lothlórien, the pack of Orcs he and the others had saved Éomer from and the other creatures roaming under Sauron’s eye.

Elrond stepped forward. “Sauron’s army has turned their attention on the people of Rohan. Even now, his reavers sweep across the plains of Rohan, burning and pillaging, leaving a trail of bodies. The people flee to Edoras, hoping their king will be able to save them. Their only recourse is to flee to Helm’s Deep, where they will live under siege, until they defeat the army or are killed.”

“It once took an alliance of Elves and Men to defeat the Dark Lord.” Elrond slanted a look at Celeborn who nodded. “I fear it may take such an alliance to again defeat Sauron. The people of Rohan will be instrumental to that defeat. If they fall now, the future of Middle Earth is dire.”

Haldir had a feeling he knew where this was going but he didn’t speak. It wasn’t his place to question during such dark times. 

Elrond focused on Haldir. “We would ask you to command the contingent of our people to Helm’s Deep, to provide aid to the innocents there.” 

Haldir could only stare at Galadriel, noting the faint hint of smile despite the gravity of the conversation. There were times he had considered leaving Lórien for the last three years, to travel to Rohan, if only for a glimpse of Éomer, to make sure the Man was happy. He had resisted the urge though, mostly because even now Rúmil and Orophin asked him if he was still pining over Éomer.

The Lady is giving him a chance to see Éomer and he would be a fool to not take it. He bowed. “I am honoured you chose me.”

Elrond folded his hands. “All the provisions have been gathered and our people are waiting. You must leave by dawn tomorrow if you hope to reach Helm’s Deep in time to aid them.”

“Of course.” Haldir bowed again. “If you would excuse me, I need a chance to gather my belongings.”

Celeborn inclined his head. “You have our thanks, Marchwarden.”

Haldir strode out of the glade, thoughts racing. He already had a list formed, of the few belongings he would need, namely his armour, sword and bow. They would be traveling fast and light, making the most of the fact they wouldn’t be carrying anything beyond the essentials.

As he approached his talan Rúmil and Orophin were standing on the stairs. “I am going to Helm’s Deep, to aid the people of Rohan.” He raised a hand when Rúmil started to speak. “I would rather you stayed here. Someone must keep the borders of Lothlórien safe.”

Orophin shook his head. “Without us, you will have no one to watch out for you. Unless you expect Nastar to do so.”

Haldir took hold of the ladder to his talan. “I go because it is the right thing to do. The fact it is Éomer’s home is of little consequence.”

Knowing it was a fight that could go on Haldir quickly scaled the ladder to retrieve his bow, quiver, sword and a small bag. His armor and extra arrows were kept in the barracks situated at the base of several of the mallorn trees. By the time he descended from the talan his brothers were gone and he headed for the barracks.

A meal had been laid out in the clearing near the barracks and Haldir set his weapons near the other piles of gear. He collected some food before moving to sit on one of the arching mallorn roots, his plate balanced on his knee. Other Elves came to join him, speaking of the spreading darkness. Many of them had been alive during the first war and had hoped never to see such malignant darkness again.

Haldir paid some attention to the conversation around him, though most of his attention was on planning the fastest route to Helm’s Deep. He had seen maps and traveled through parts of Rohan, though he had never passed close to the fabled fastness said to be impossible to breach. 

Slowly the conversation dwindled and Haldir settled down against the tree roots. Morning would come soon enough, and it is a long way to Helm’s Deep.

*  
Éomer tossed the weapon on the pile of bodies before stepping back so his men could throw another body on. This wasn’t the first pile of bodies they had burned, and they were getting better at this. He had lost count of the piles of smoking ruins they had left behind, many of them carrying belongings from villages. Finding Théodred had been bad, but these Orcs have become brazen in their attacks and he couldn’t help but think Gríma Wormtongue was somehow involved.

Several of his men came forward with torches to fire the wood at the base of the pile. It took a moment for the wood to catch but the bodies were quickly consumed, dark, oily smoke filling the air. The odor of burning flesh was heavy but by now Éomer was used to the sickening smell.

Accepting his helmet, he put it on and turned to his gathered men. They all looked tired, faces drawn, deep circles under their eyes. They were the ones who had willingly followed him into exile, away from their families, with no guarantee they would ever see them again. He knew there was no way he could ever repay their loyalty. “I know you are all tired, but there is no reprieve for us. We are the last line of defense between these foul creatures and everything we love. Rohirrim, mount up!”

\-----

Haldir glanced skyward, noting the time. They were making good time to Helm’s Deep and would easily the reach the stronghold before the Orcs were even in sight of the dark walls. He had scouts in front of and to the sides of his small army, reporting regularly on their surroundings. A few others were ranging further out, keeping a careful eye on the dark tide of Orcs headed for Helm’s Deep.

*

As they neared Helm’s Deep Haldir motioned for one of the horn bearers to blow a single call. If Legolas or Aragorn were in Helm’s Deep, they would recognize the horn for what it was. 

There was a flurry of movement on the walls and Haldir was aware of the Men lining the walls, staring at them with awe. What he could see of the people lining the wall was disheartening. For every hardened warrior on the wall there were twice as many old men with palsied hands and young boys who had only the faint fuzz of a beard on their face.

The gates swung open and they entered Helm’s Deep, the gathered men of Rohan staring at them. An older Man approached and Haldir bowed, noting the lack of Éomer’s presence. He could see the resemblance to Éomer in the man and knew him to be Théoden and he bowed, though he couldn’t help but keep from wondering where Éomer was. There was no way the Man would abandon his people when they most needed him.

He couldn’t help but stiffen when Aragorn hugged him, and he awkwardly patted the Man’s back before pulling away. It was one thing he had appreciated about Éomer, about how he had always maintained a distance from him in public, accepting that he wanted to keep what was between them quiet, and for them alone.

Looking at Aragorn he gestured to his archers. “You know the fortress. Place us where we can be of the most use.”

Aragorn nodded and began issuing orders, separating the Elves, putting them on the walls and in the yard, mixing them among the Men who were still staring at them in awe. 

Haldir watched the proceedings, trusting the ranger. Aragorn had grown up among his kind and was aware of their abilities far more than any Man ever could. He was aware of Legolas watching him and he turned to look at the other Elf. “Legolas.”

“Haldir.” Legolas shifted his weight, glancing at Aragorn who was speaking to several of the Elves. “I was under the impression the Marchwarden never left the confines of Lothlórien.” 

Haldir pinned Legolas with a look. “Sauron’s darkness is a blight to any living thing in Middle Earth. In such circumstances, leaving Lothlórien is not a hardship.” With a curt nod, he turned and made his way to the top of the wall.

\-----

Éomer ate another piece of bread, staring into the fire as he did so. They were camped in a small hollow between a cluster of hills. It was the only rest he could give his men and even the food was barely adequate. Since their exile, they had been living on what they could take from the landscape and what little the small farmsteads around Rohan offered to them as they rode past.

A commotion caught his attention and he stood. One of his men pushed forward. “Prince Éomer, there is someone here to see you.”

Frowning Éomer dropped a hand to the hilt of his sword. They had been moving for weeks and it seemed unlikely anyone was capable of tracking their path. A murmur proceeded their guest and Éomer settled his weight. A well-known visitor meant either good or bad.

His men parted and Éomer relaxed when he saw Gandalf. The Wizard looked different, his normal grey robes gone, replaced with pristine white. He was familiar with the Wizard, as Gandalf had visited Edoras several times while he had been growing up and had always had some trick for he, Éowyn and Théodred before leaving.

“Gandalf. I wish I had better hospitality to offer, but we have nothing but our company to give you.”

Gandalf leaned against his staff. “I appreciate the offer, but I bring you dire tidings. Your uncle and people are trapped in Helm’s Deep. Unless we can reach them in time, I fear what will happen to them.”

Éomer stared at Gandalf, thoughts racing. It wasn’t impossible to make it to Helm’s Deep from where they were, but it would require a long, hard ride. Spinning away from the wizard he scooped his helmet up. “Saddle the horses! We ride for Helm’s Deep.”

\-----

Haldir stood behind Aragorn, watching as the Man talked to Théoden. The king was falling into despair, ready to bow down to the wolves baying at the door. He turned away from the conversation, eyes going to where his companions worked, binding the wounds of those who had managed to fall back to the hold. Many of them had abandoned their helmets in the fight and he could see the calm acceptance on their faces. They didn’t expect to survive any more than the Men, but they would never voice their worries. 

Looking back at the king he caught Legolas’ gaze and they shared a moment. For all their long lives, Elves were far less concerned with death than the mortal races. They understood it as a normal end to a cycle. Haldir settled his weight, waiting for Théoden to make up his mind. He knew it was unlikely Aragorn would settle for dying in this hall, despite the king’s decision, and he would join the Man.

Finally, whatever Aragorn was saying reached the king and Haldir watched as the Man changed, turning to bark orders at his men. 

The remaining horses were brought forward and Haldir accepted the reins from one, easily swinging on to the grey’s back. Around him the others were mounting and Haldir urged his horse to fall into line behind Legolas. There was no promise of surviving this wild ride, but it was better than dying cooped up in a hall.

Around them the sound of the horn echoed through the hall and as one they kicked their horses into a gallop.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has read, commented and left kudos. There are a couple little liberties I took in this chapter, mostly regarding Elven immortality and added the bit about the braids.
> 
> Enjoy!

Reining in as the rest of the Rohirrim chased the surviving Orcs into the forest Éomer turned to look at Helm’s Deep to get a better of idea of the damage he had only glimpsed at as they’d rode to save their kin and friends.

A massive hole had been blown from the wall where the culvert had once stood, chunks of stone littering the battlefield. The ramp leading up to the entrance was littered with bodies, Uruk-hai and Man and Éomer was struck with the sudden, overwhelming urge to check and make sure Éowyn was okay. 

Pressing his heels against his mount’s side Éomer ignored his uncle and Aragorn behind him and started picking his way across the battlefield. He was nearly halfway to the Deep when a familiar flash of gold from beneath a pile of Uruk-hai caught his eyes. Removing his helmet, he hung it from the strap on the saddle and dismounted.

It was but a moment’s work to move the bodies and Éomer went to his knees, shock rendering him paralyzed. The body he had uncovered was an Elf, the face achingly familiar despite the unseeing eyes and large gash across a slim throat. Gaelrian, one of the Elves from Haldir’s patrol, one of the first to accept his presence in Lothlórien without question.

Closing Gaelrian’s eyes Éomer looked around the battlefield, seeing other bits of gold, each one marking an Elf fallen fighting for his people.

His eyes were drawn back to the Deep where two figures were, one sitting on the edge of the wall, the other bending over the other. He knew one to be his sister, her hair a flaxen banner in the early morning wind but the one she was tending to was a mystery, beyond the long pale hair, marking the figure as an Elf.

Éomer remounted and whistled sharply, the sound carrying on the wind. Éowyn’s head came up and she dashed down the stairs, skirts gathered in one hand to a height that would have raised eyebrows had propriety been high on anyone’s mind.

She met him halfway across the field and Éomer dropped from the saddle, jerking Éowyn into his arms. He pressed his face into her hair, one hand curling in the fabric of her dress. Some of his worry oozed away when she hugged him hard. It was a tragedy, what had happened to their country but in that moment, everything was okay simply because Éowyn was safe.

Pulling back Éomer tugged a glove off with his teeth and dropped it the ground, cupping his sister’s chin. “What happened?”

Éowyn sighed and rested her forehead against Éomer’s chest. “Théodred died not long after your exile.”

Feeling Éowyn’s breathing hitch against his chest Éomer kissed the top of her head. “Gandalf told me. What happened here?”

“Uncle sent me to the caves before the fight started but once it was safe, one of the Elves came to get me. He said that the battle was won and escorted me to the wall, hand on his sword despite the wound to his arm. I have never been so glad to see the back of your horse brother.”

Éomer found his gaze pulled back to the wall and the lone figure there, silver armour shimmering in the morning sun. “And the Elf?”

Turning in his arms Éowyn followed his gaze. “Haldir of-”

“Lothlórien.” Éomer smiled at the confusion on her face. “It was Haldir’s patrol who freed me from my captors.”

Half turning, he caught his mount’s reins and drew the horse closer. “Now up so we can return to Helm’s Deep. I would not have you walk through such filth again.”

Ignoring his sister’s dirty look Éomer boosted her into the saddle. His mount shifted briefly before stilling under her touch, as used to her hands on the reins as his.

Their uncle and the rest of the Rohirrim caught up with them as they neared Helm’s Deep but Éomer had eyes only for Haldir, who hadn’t moved from his position on the wall.

Before he could break away someone was taking the reins from his hand and his uncle was descending on him, arms open, dark eyes apologetic. 

After that, there was no time for Éomer to seek Haldir out.

*

It seemed the entire population of Rohan was jammed in the main hall of Helm’s Deep and Éomer leaned back against the wall, desperate for open space and even a chance to speak with Haldir.

The Marchwarden and the rest of the surviving Elves were in a corner nearest the door, carefully keeping to themselves even as they watched the Men. 

Raising his tankard to drink Éomer found Haldir’s gaze on him, eyes bright even in the low light of the hall and he found himself captivated again, as he had been the first time he’d been aware enough of his surrounding to take a good look at the Elf.

Haldir canted his head towards the partially open door, a clear sign and Éomer looked around. Éowyn was making her rounds of the room though her gaze never left Aragorn and everyone else was oblivious to his presence. He nodded and watched as the Elf slipped out.

Setting his mug down Éomer made his escape seconds later. 

\-----

Slipping from the celebration taking place in the hall of Helm’s Deep was surprisingly easy, everyone caught up in finding out who was alive and mourning those who had fallen. Éomer was acutely aware of Haldir behind him as they climbed to the highest point of Helm’s Deep, a small nook in the wall he and Théodred had discovered years ago.

He was surprised how unsure he felt about having Haldir close. Three years ago it was all he wanted and now the urge to have the Elf burned again but he couldn’t be sure that it was also what Haldir wanted. The years had dragged on for him, watching the slow descent of his uncle and the way Gríma had looked at his sister. Yet for Haldir those years had been but a flash in the long years of his life. There was no guarantee the yearning he felt for Haldir was still returned.

Éomer stepped back into the nook, Haldir stopping just outside, the moon gilding his features in silver. There was a deep sadness in his noble features and Éomer felt for the Elf, knowing how deeply Elves felt the deaths of their people.

Reaching out Éomer touched the bulk of bandage under the fine cloth of Haldir’s sleeve. “I mourn for the deaths of your people Marchwarden but Lothlórien also has the never-ending gratitude of me and my people for coming to our aide.”

Haldir’s smile was bittersweet. “Lórien thanks you for the sympathy. And three thousand years ago, it took an alliance of Men and Elves to defeat Sauron and even if this is the only battle, we take part in, we have still made a difference in this war.”

Feeling bold, Éomer slid his hand up Haldir’s arm to rest against his neck, thumb brushing the underside of his jaw. “Glad I was to see you alive in the Hall after my Uncle told me of your last-minute arrival. The sight of so many fallen Elves laid my heart low.”

Haldir’s hand curled around his wrist, squeezing gently as he stepped closer. “And I was disheartened to learn of your exile when I spoke to Aragorn and Legolas. It seems Nastar, that you were not meant to be at home for much of the last decade.”

Nastar. The word, in Haldir’s lilting Westron, sent a shiver down Éomer’s back. He had despaired of ever hearing it again and now he wanted nothing more than a warm bed with Haldir pressed close. 

Blowing out a breath Éomer rested his forehead against Haldir’s, his other hand coming up to rest on the Elf’s chest. “Would that Wormtongue had not poisoned uncle’s mind and forced me from Rohan but I would not trade those years at Lórien and especially the last for anything.”

A hand slid into his hair, strong fingers rubbing at the back of his head and Éomer pressed close to Haldir, ignoring the uncomfortable pressure it put on his wrist and hand. “I have missed you Haldir.”

Lips briefly touched his. “And I you Éomer.”

Éomer drew back far enough to see Haldir’s eyes, seeing the truth in their star-brightness.

Haldir laughed the sound humour filled and seductive at the same time. “Such surprise from you Éomer. Do you really think Elves so fickle that three years separate is enough to dim the warmth I feel in your presence?”

“No, but I recall Rúmil’s fleeting and fading infatuation with Twaein.” Having heard the warm affection in Haldir’s voice Éomer took it as tacit approval to touch as he saw fit. He pressed a kiss to the corner of the Elf’s mouth, feeling the hand in his hair tighten in approval.

“Yes, but you must remember, what you saw was the end of a decade long infatuation he had with her. Rúmil came to what little senses he has left after so long and decided to move on.”

Éomer laughed and shifted slightly, hand sliding up to cradle Haldir’s chin as he kissed him again. “Must we keep speaking of family?”

Haldir’s answer was a kiss.

He quickly lost track of how long they stayed pressed together, barely aware of his surroundings, focused entirely on the smell and taste of Haldir. The Elf was all that mattered, hands sliding under his tunic and mumbled Elvish that Éomer couldn’t be bothered to try and translate. 

Pressing Haldir back into the nook Éomer gently ran his fingers over the tip of one pointed ear, reveling in full body shiver that ran through Haldir. “Would that we had a bed and time rather than just kisses and a stone hole.”

Haldir brushed his thumb across Éomer’s cheek. “Given the battle here, I think a bed will have to wait at least until we have seen this through in its entirety.”

“Or our return to Edoras. You will return with us?” Éomer could hear the plaintive sound in his voice and he hated himself for it, for sounding like a young child but after what he had been through, the need to have Haldir close was overwhelming.

“We will. I have pledged our service to the King of Rohan, and I would see it through.”

Overwhelmed he kissed Haldir again, but all the sweetness was gone, replaced with need and so many other things Éomer couldn’t find the words to describe.

Fingers bit into his skin, Haldir not backing down, his own kisses desperate and hungry.

“Éomer I’ve been look- Oh I’m sorry!” Éowyn’s voice trailed off.

Breaking the kiss Éomer rested his forehead on Haldir’s shoulder, laughing at the Elf’s barely audible curse. “I forgot Théodred and I told her of his place.”

He turned to look at his sister, Haldir’s hand low on his back doing much to keep the feeling of pleasure running rampant through his body despite the sudden shock of discovery. Éowyn was twisting her hands in the skirt of her dress, a flush painting her cheeks bright even in the darkness of the night.

“Éowyn?”

She shook her head and took a step backward. “It was nothing Éomer.” Her gaze flickered to Haldir and her blush deepened. “Good evening Haldir.”

“Good Eve to you Lady Éowyn.”

Before Éomer could say anything, his sister was already headed back down the stairs. Rubbing a hand over his face he turned back to look at Haldir. “I suppose chasing her down isn’t really an option.”

Haldir shook his head, fingers gliding over his cheek. “I would suggest giving her some time to come to terms with what she witnessed. I would say, from the look on her face she does not know of your predilection for male companionship.”

“It was not something I ever told her or Théodred. Though part of her shock might also be from seeing an aristocratic Elf in such a compromising position. What did your brothers say when they found out about us?” Éomer smoothed the lock of hair on the right side of Haldir’s face, tucking it behind his ear.

Turning his head towards the hand still playing with his hair Haldir kissed the inside of Éomer’s wrist. “The teasing was getting overdone until you managed to knock Rúmil to the ground sparring. After that they had little to say about our relationship.”

Éomer smiled. “I think it is time to return to the hall. If Éowyn came looking for me, it is only a matter of time until someone else does.”

Haldir nodded and they made their way down the narrow stairs toward the hall, and the spill of noise and light, a welcome beacon in the cool night air. 

\-----

Blinking against the early morning light Éomer looked around. Haldir was standing on the wall, next to where the hole had been blown in the wall. He made his way to the stairs and joined the Elf to survey the destruction. “What happened?”

Haldir glanced at him before looking back at the hole. “There was an Orc, carrying something. Aragorn was yelling for Legolas to bring it down, but it was heavily armored. and he was unable to stop it. There was a lull and all of a sudden, the wall was blown to pieces. Orc and Man went flying and stones fell, crushing anything. Orcs flooded through the wall and it was all we could do to retreat to the hall.”

He looked at Éomer. “I have seen nothing like it.”

Haldir’s words caused an uncomfortable feeling to coil in the pit of his stomach and Éomer shook his head. If Haldir hadn’t seen anything like it… He looked at the Elf. “Have you heard of it?”

The Elf nodded slowly, gaze sweeping over the damage again. “We have heard rumors of such a force. Far from here, though we haven’t seen it in action.” He shook his head, a wry smile pulling at his mouth. “Until now.”

Éomer turned his face into the sun. “I ride for Isengard with Gandalf, Aragorn and my uncle. The guard will return to Edoras with my sister and the rest of the survivors.”

Haldir looked at the Man. He had quickly learned to read Éomer when he had first come to Caras Galadhon and it seemed he still could. Reaching over he rested his hand on Éomer’s wrist, fingers curling around to lightly rest over the strong pulse. “I stand by what I said last night. I will return to Edoras with your sister and the others. And I will stay in Edoras until you return.”

Raising his hand Éomer paused before dropping his hadn, as though aware of the people emerging from the shattered remains of the fortress. “Thank you.”

\-----  
Haldir kept his eyes forward, acutely aware of Éowyn next to him. She could have been riding, as was her right, but she was leading a horse carrying two children and their mother, all three drowsing in the saddle. Everyone in the caravan sought her out and Haldir would have known her to be Éomer’s sister, even if he hadn’t known of her. 

One of his scouts fell into step with him and Haldir listened to the report. All the Elves who had remained with him were ranging far around the column, serving as an early warning system in case any of Sauron’s army or reavers decided they weren’t done with the people of Rohan. 

His scout headed back into the sward and Haldir glanced at Éowyn who was staring at him, a frown tugging at the corners of her mouth. “My lady?”

Éowyn tightened her grip on the reins. “Why did you save my brother?”

Haldir had been expecting questions since they had left Helm’s Deep, as Éowyn had stayed close from the moment they had cleared the killing field outside the wall. He was grateful it had taken her this long to speak, as he was sure she had yet to speak with her brother. “No living being, creature, or Man should have the unfortunate fate of being a plaything for Orcs. I guarantee you, my lady, the stories you hear about the dark creatures hold no candle to the truths. When I saw Éomer, bound and injured, I did what was right.”

“And why didn’t you send him home? We spent three years worrying he was dead.” She raised her chin and blinked hard, eyes bright, though no tears fell. 

Haldir glanced away from Éowyn, giving her privacy, even if it wasn’t much. “The only thing I knew was that he was from Rohan. Your country is large, and it would have been wrong of me to send him off. Would you have preferred I sent him wandering lost, and have him be further injured? At least in Lothlórien he was healthy and safe.”

He knew there was an edge to his voice, but he didn’t care. Éowyn’s concern was valid and he understood her reasoning, but she should have taken Éomer’s safety into consideration. Better he be alive, without his family knowing where he was, than his body rotting in a field, his fate unknown.

Éowyn moved closer to Haldir, blue eyes sharp. “What I saw last night?”

Fingers curling Haldir looked at her. “What you witnessed is something I ask you speak to Éomer about. It is hardly my place to speak of such matters.” Many things Men saw as taboo had long since ceased to be a problem for Elves and he was never sure what might get him in trouble. He wouldn’t lie to Éowyn about their relationship, but it was something she needed to speak to her brother about first. 

Staring at him for a long minute Éowyn gave a jerky nod before going back to watching the horizon, Edoras a smudge against the sky.

\-----

The knocking on his door, far from ladylike wasn’t a surprise to Éomer. His sister, even from a very young age had considered herself a Shield-maid of Rohan and in her mind, despite the intimacy of what she had witnessed, answers were obviously in order.

Standing he drew his simple robe closed and belted it before crossing to the door. Luckily, Haldir was out with the remnants of the Lórien contingent, though there was little doubt in his mind the Elf would end up in his room and bed before the night was out.

He opened the door and Éowyn swept into his room, dressed in her own robe. Had they not been related it would have caused more scandal than Rohan had seen in years but Éomer wasn’t willing to have that conversation with her again.

Éomer gestured towards the lone chair in his room. “Would you like to sit sister?”

Éowyn fixed him with the same look she had given him and Théodred when they’d been growing up, the one that clearly stated Rohan would be in better hands if she succeeded their uncle when the time came. “Do not patronize me Éomer. What did I see at Helm’s Deep?”

Many answers skimmed through his mind at his sister’s questions but none of them seemed to be the one he wanted. In the three years since he’d regained his memory and returned to Edoras from Lothlórien he’d done his best not to think about the time he’d spent with the Elves. 

He’d done his best to simply gloss over the details of his three year stay in Lothlórien when asked by his cousin and sister. Despite the stress of losing memories of his life living amidst the trees and Elves had been oddly peaceful and part of him longed to go back to that.

And upon returning to Rohan he’d still been young and idealistic and believed that speaking of Haldir and Lórien would diminish his memories and the special power of the place, so he’d remained quiet.

Now after years separated from Haldir had given him insight and he was more willing to share the truth with Éowyn but finding the words was proving difficult.

Éomer curled his hand into a loose fist. “While I stayed in Lothlórien, Haldir was my most constant companion. He is one of the few who speak Westron and Lady Galadriel asked him to provide escort and help to me as I learned the rudiments of their language.”

He turned away from his sister, eyes drawn to the window of his room that overlooked the rolling hills of Rohan, not wanting to see her face as he continued his story. “I learned many other things during my three years there and roughly a year before I returned here, Haldir and I became lovers. I shared his talan until I returned here.”

Éowyn canted her head to the side as she stared at her brother. There had been something in her brother’s voice, in the way the clearly Elvish word fell easily from his lips that there was something deeper than a purely physical relationship.

Even growing up, when the other children had started showing interest in the other sex, and when that interest had become physical Éomer had stayed on the sidelines, playing her ever-watchful guardian as he always had. There had been times when he’d accepted small trinkets from the girls, though he never showed any favoritism, offering them all the same small half smile.

It had been much the same way with the boys and young men brave enough to show interest in the King’s nephew. 

She knew her brother had been party to more than his fair share of flings with women, all those she knew well. Never once had he spoken of them in that way and never once had he mentioned having taken a male lover.

“Éomer.”

He couldn’t help but tense under his sister’s gentle hand on his back. “You shouldn’t be surprised Éowyn. You’ve heard the same stories as I did about the Rohirrim. Cold nights lead to closeness and closeness breeds physical contact.”

Turning he caught Éowyn’s hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, keeping his head bowed as he spoke. “I’ve found pleasure with both men and women, though I much prefer the warmth of a man.”

Éowyn carded fingers through her brother’s hair, the strands still damp from his earlier bath. “And there was no reason for you to be ashamed Éomer. You are my brother and I will love you no matter what choice you make."

She curled her fingers around his chin and lifted his head. “And should the need arise Éomer, I pledge my first-born son as heir to the throne of Rohan.”

Éomer smiled and pulled Éowyn into his arms. “I doubt I will ever have to hold you to such a pledge, but the sentiment is greatly appreciated.”

\-----

A single knock on the heavy door to his room roused Éomer from the light doze he had fallen into but he didn’t get up, knowing who it was. The door swung open, followed by the softest of footsteps and he smiled.

Warm fingers brushed aside the hair at his temple followed by a feather light kiss. “Your sister came to see you.”

Éomer rested his head back against Haldir’s stomach. “How can you tell?”

Haldir gently tipped his lover’s head forward and set to work teasing knots from the still damp strands. “I can still smell her perfume unless you have taken to wearing lavender during our separation.”

Smiling Éomer settled deeper into the chair, lulled by the rhythmic pull of Haldir’s fingers through his hair. “Hardly, though my people still question my sanity when it comes to my habit of bathing almost daily. Many claim it is a sign of my bewitchment.”

Deft fingers untangling the last knot Haldir stepped away to pick up the worn comb on the table next to the bed. “You met with Lady Galadriel in Lórien we all know how the other races believe our Lady capable of bewitching the mind.”

Éomer sighed as Haldir began to brush his hair. “Your lady is beautiful, but I found myself taken in by stubbornness. “

“Do not blame me for not wanting my bed to smell of horse after you spent all day in the stables.” Haldir set the brush aside and leaned down, breath fanning across Éomer’s ear. “Would you wear my marks again Éomer?”

Reaching back Éomer slid his hand into Haldir’s hair, the long strands like silk between his fingers. “Always.”

With gentle fingers Haldir turned her lover’s face towards him, mouth catching Éomer’s in a slow, sweet kiss. He pressed a second kiss to the corner of the Man’s mouth before drawing back. It was but a moments work to braid Éomer’s hair in the manner he had worn for his last year in Lothlórien, marking him as Haldir’s chosen partner.

Hand smoothing down Éomer’s hair to his shoulders Haldir tugged at the collar of his lover’s robe. “Off if you please.”

“Demanding Elf.” Leaning forward Éomer shrugged the heavy robe off and groaned when Haldir’s fingers dug into his shoulders before he had leaned back.

It was ridiculous how easy it was to lose track of time when Haldir’s hands were on him. His lover’s hands found all the knots in his back and shoulders, the tension he had been carrying since his uncle’s aided descent into senility and his exile.

The impromptu massage ended and then Haldir was kneeling in front of him, hands sliding from his knees to his hips. Éomer leaned forward, hands cradling the Elf’s face as he kissed him. “The mind is willing, but my body is exhausted.”

Haldir stood, easily drawing Éomer up with him. “Closeness is all I ask.”

“I can give closeness.” Éomer shed his pants and robe before sliding into his cool bed. Jamming one the pillows under his head he settled on his side, watching as Haldir stripped. There was nothing particularly sensual about the act, the Elf stripping quickly and folding his clothing neatly but it brought pleasure to Éomer nonetheless. 

He lifted the blankets and Haldir slid in close, all hard stone wrapped in soft skin. Sliding one arm over Haldir’s waist he drew the Elf close, pressing his face into the fine curve of his lover’s neck. 

Sleep had nearly taken him when Haldir twisted against him until they were lying back to chest, his arm still tight around his waist. Nosing away the long hair Éomer pressed his lips to the nape of his lover’s neck even as he curled tighter around him. “How long are you planning on staying?”

Haldir’s fingers traced the myriad of raised scars on the back of his hand. “Until dawn at least. And fear not for your men noticing my presence. Their guard was surprisingly lax when I slipped in.”

Éomer could only nod in agreement as he drifted off.

*

Striding down the hall on the way out to check on his men Éomer noticed Aragorn and Legolas sitting on the edge of the hall, talking quietly. He nodded to them as he passed, paying no further attention to them until he heard Legolas’ voice.

_“Éomer wears the braids of Haldir’s chosen!”_

Éomer spun on heel until he was facing them. _“I have for some time.”_ He grinned at the obvious shock on their faces. “You should beware that those around you might surprise you with what they know.”

Knowing he’d shocked an Elf and future king of Gondor into silence was enough to raise Éomer’s mood despite the darkness lingering over the land.

\----- 

Éowyn sat on the campstool next to her brother near the small fire he and Haldir were sharing and drew her skirts close to her legs before hunching forward to stare at the fire.

“Éowyn?” His voice was low and insistent, knowing and she could almost hate him for knowing her so well, for his uncanny ability to read her thoughts.

An arm settled around her shoulders, tugging gently and Éowyn turned into the gentle pressure, forehead against his shoulder. 

“Aragorn?”

A shudder ran through her body at the ranger’s name and she hunched up further, hands twisting in the fabric of her skirt and she took a deep breath, hoping it would ease the shakes she could feel building.

Warm lips touched her temple. “It’s for the best Éowyn. You’ll find someone available and Aragorn is far too old for you.”

Éomer’s words echoed in her ear, so very wrong and shock swept through her body. She pulled back from her brother’s gentle clutch, disbelief writ large across her face.

Éowyn glanced to where Haldir sat on the other side of her brother. His head was bowed, ostensibly checking over his arrows but even with his hair obscuring much of his face Éowyn could clearly see the smile twisting his lips.

“Éomer, have you lost your mind?”

He frowned. “What?”

Rolling her eyes at her brother’s obtuseness Éowyn swept her hand towards Haldir. “Aragorn is too old? Éomer, have you forgotten what you’ve been sleeping with?” She glanced at Haldir who had given up pretending to look at the arrows, eyes bright as he watched him. “No offense meant.”

His smile was nothing more than a slight upturn of his mouth though the feeling behind it was plain. “None taken Lady Éowyn.”

Éowyn smiled at him, wishing she could get him to drop the title, but he’d politely declined every time he’d mentioned it. She gently removed Éomer’s arm from her shoulder and stood, leaning down to kiss him on the cheek. “You dear brother, have no rights to say anything about the age of anyone I make take up with.”

She was rewarded by the sound of her brother’s attempts to defend his words and Haldir’s laughter as she made her way back to the tent she’d been given.

\-----

The tent around them was hot and Éomer wiped away the bead of sweat trickling down his temple. He and his uncle were looking at the maps, trying to plan the best way to get to Minis Tirith. The last of the levies were coming in, the numbers of the army swelling with every hour, but there wasn’t much time for the furthest out men to give their horses enough time to recover. It was one of the flaws with their type of warfare, the reliance on well rested mounts.

Théoden shook his head and looked at Éomer. “You might as well go out. There is no reason for you to stew with me.”

Ducking his head Éomer stepped out of the tent, glad for the breeze blowing through the camp. He glanced at the crevasse Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli had disappeared into earlier, glad it wasn’t him. There was something not quite right about the pass and even thinking about it was enough to send a shiver down his spine.

Haldir was sitting in front of the tent, working on more arrows and Éomer sat on the stool next to him. “Do you know why Aragorn and the others went that way?”

“I do.” Haldir glanced at Éomer. “There is much darkness in the history of Men, much of it forgotten or considered lore. What lays inside the pass is one of those dark things, and only Aragorn can temper and use what he will find there.”

Shaking his head Éomer stared at the cold fire pit. “Better him than me. I find I have an ill feeling about the battle ahead of us.”

“That is hardly anything to be ashamed of.” Haldir leaned forward, setting his work on the ground. “It is likely we will face an army much larger than our own. The Dark Lord has had many years to prepare, with the way he masked his working from the Lady’s keen sight.”

Éomer looked to where Éowyn was grooming her horse. “I hate thinking of what is to come if we are unable to stop the forces of Mordor at Minis Tirith. If we fall, there is little to save the innocents.”

Haldir followed the Man’s gaze. “The Dwarves would oppose the darkness. It would only be a matter of time before they became vulnerable, even in the depths of their halls. Moria serves as a dark reminder that their halls aren’t impenetrable. Lady Galadriel wouldn’t stand to let innocents suffer, no matter the race.”

Sighing Éomer tipped his head back to stare at the sky. “I suppose that is true but forgive me for saying it isn’t reassuring.”

Haldir rested his hand on Éomer’s thigh, squeezing. “I understand. Protecting Rohan has been your duty for years.”

Éomer gave a curt nod but didn’t look at his companion. He could only hope he would get to protect Rohan for many more years. 

They lapsed into silence and Éomer was glad Haldir was here, even if things didn’t go their way. 

\-----

Éomer gripped the reins of his horse, staring at the field below them. To the right Minis Tirith rose, the white stone scarred by the bombardment. Even at this distance he could see the defenders on the wall, dark spots against the stone. At the gates, there was a massive black ram, surrounded by rank upon rank of Orcs.

He glanced back to where Haldir was, the Elf without a helmet, though he was wearing light leather armour, covering his chest, back and thighs the plates fitting closely to his body. The Elf gave a single, tight nod and Éomer turned to face forward, hand flexing around the handle of his spear.

A single horn blew and he watched as his uncle pulled from the ranks, and though he couldn’t hear the words, he knew what was being said. They fought for Gondor, but also for Rohan, the last bulwark against the darkness.

Éomer took a deep breath as his uncle returned to the center of the line. He knew the plan, for him to take his wing wide, to hit the orcs from the side, where they could already see holes in the flanks. If they got lucky, they would be able to crush the orcs against Minis Tirith’s walls. 

He wanted to look back, for a last glimpse of Haldir, but he kept his eyes forward. Focusing and awareness was the only thing that was going to get him through this alive.

The horn near his uncle sounded, carrying across the field. Éomer set his heels to his mount’s side and as one the Rohirrim charged forward.

Bent low over his horse’s neck, Éomer was aware of the orc arrows falling into the army, horses and men falling around him. From somewhere behind him arrows were streaking passed, mowing down the enemy at an astonishing rate.

The front rank slammed into the orcs and Éomer thrust with his spear, knocking an orc to the ground, his horse trampling the creature. Gripping the horse with his knees he stabbed another orc, blood spurting from its mouth as it fell to the ground.

An arrow skimmed past his head, the grey fletching familiar and he turned to see it pierce an orc through the head, the skinny body flopping to the ground. He whipped his head around to locate Haldir, but the Elf was already gone, horse moving through the battle with ease.

Éomer shook his head and settled deeper into his saddle, hand flexing around his spear. He needed to focus on his own survival. Haldir had millennium of experience and was more than capable of taking care of himself. He set his heels to his mount’s side, wheeling the horse toward a knot of orcs.

\-----

Scrubbing at his face Éomer entered the room he’d been given in the citadel of Gondor. It was still hard to believe, everything that had happened in the last few days. The battle of Minas Tirith, his uncle’s death, Éowyn in the infirmary, her arm broken from her fight with the Witch-King, the way every one of the Rohirrim had gone to one knee in front of him even as they had gathered around his uncle’s body.

Now he was the King of Rohan and he in no way felt prepared for such a task.

Closing the door, he turned just in time to watch Haldir go to one knee, head bowed. “Hail to Éomer-King.” 

Éomer unbuckled his sword belt and wrapped it around the scabbard before setting it aside. The city was safe, but he’d grown so used to having a weapon at the hand it was second nature not to leave his room without one. “Please not you too Haldir. I need one person besides Éowyn who doesn’t bow every time I walk by.”

Rising in a graceful movement Haldir moved past Éomer to the window. 

“Haldir, there is something I would speak to you about.”

Haldir turned from the window overlooking the vast reaches of Gondor to look at his lover. Éomer was sitting at the chair for the big desk, sharp features creased with worry. He crossed to sit on the chest near the Man. “What is you would ask me?”

Éomer’s hand rose to touch the chosen braids in his hair. “I overheard Aragorn telling Legolas that Lady Arwen had given up her immortality for him. He expressed his happiness for Aragorn but also said it was a shame that the Evenstar would fade from Middle Earth. Is there something I should know?”

Resting a hand on Éomer’s knee Haldir stroked his fingers over the rough cloth. The thought of explaining Elven immortality and how it worked when it came to mortal lovers had been something that had never crossed Haldir’s mind as it had been a topic he’d never hoped he’d be forced to breach with Éomer but it seemed it was not to be.

“Elves can give up their immortality to remain and die with their lovers if they chose. There have been several throughout our history, though many avoid entanglements with Men for just that reason, so they will not have to witness the death of the mortal they love or lose the family they have known for millennia.”

Éomer tensed, one hand reaching out to touch Haldir’s cheek. “And you have not-” He trailed off, unable to voice his fear.

Haldir tightened his hand on Éomer’s leg. “No. Only female Elves can gift their immortality. When a male Elf loses the one who bears their chosen braids we simply drift away, unable to live without their presence.”

Éomer startled out of his chair, knocking the heavy piece of furniture to the floor, his dark eyes wide with shock, chest heaving against the sudden knowledge. One hand went to his hair, fingers curling around the braid. 

“Why?” 

The single word was low and tight with betrayal and Haldir hated the look of heart-rending dismay on his lover’s face. “Because it was my choice Éomer. I have taken many to my bed in my time, but I have offered none my braid. I had never meant to keep the knowledge secret but at there never seemed to be a good time to share it with you.”

A nod was his answer but Éomer skittered away from the hand he held out and Haldir dropped his hand.

“What would have happened had I died before returning to Helm’s Deep?”

Fighting the urge to display any nervousness Haldir met Éomer’s gaze. “I would have ceased to be.”

His words had Éomer straightening up, a hard glint in his eyes. “And if you had fallen at Helm’s Deep?”

Haldir stood and took a step towards the Man, gratified when he didn’t shy away. “Nothing. I would have fallen, and you would have found me and mourned but suffered no ill beyond your grief.”

“You make grief sound harmless. It was grief over my father that took mother from us.”

Cupping Éomer’s cheek Haldir stepped close, until they were pressed together. “I would never belittle your grief, but I know your strength. You would have remained for Éowyn, so she would not be alone having lost her much loved cousin and later her uncle. You would have grieved, but carried on, for her and your people.”

Éomer pulled him close and Haldir settled into the curve of the lean body, content to have closeness rather than continue the emotional turmoil of moments earlier. They stood like that for long moments before Éomer sighed. 

“Aragorn has asked me to bring the remains of the Rohirrim to the gate. He feels it is the only way to give Frodo and Sam a chance to destroy the Ring.”

Haldir curled his hands into Éomer’s tunic. “Being the sole focus of the Dark Lord’s ire is a dangerous task.” He pulled back just far enough to see his lover’s face. “But I will be there. I have become too involved in this to simply walk away when we are this close to Sauron being banished from Middle Earth.”

Éomer kissed the Elf before stepping back. He crossed to the door in long strides and dropped the bar across the door. Despite the size of the city, privacy was in short supply in Minas Tirith for the time and he wanted some time alone with Haldir, especially with fact they might not survive tomorrow.

By the time he got back to the bed Haldir already had his top tunic partially off and Éomer slid his hands under the soft fabric, pushing the garment off his shoulders. Sinking one hand in Haldir’s hair he kissed the Elf, guiding him back toward the bed.

They went down together, Éomer sitting up to start removing his own tunic, Haldir’s hands shoving his aside, and it wasn’t long before Haldir was dropping it to the floor. Moving down Éomer pressed a kiss to the line of Haldir’s collarbone, the skin smooth under his lips.

Tomorrow could easily be the last day for them and Éomer refused to dwell on that.

\-----

Éomer rolled his shoulders, the weight of his armour uncomfortable in a way it hadn’t been in years. Haldir was standing next to him, as calm as if he were in Lothlórien and Éomer envied him the calm. All around him the remains of his men and those from Gondor were shifting with nervous energy, though no one was talking. Shifting his weight Éomer looked again at the Black Gate in front of them, malice seemingly oozing from the darkness and he couldn’t help but imagine what could be laying behind the gates, waiting to smash their small force into the dust. 

The sun was beating down on them and time seemed to slow to a crawl before the massive gate started to open. As one the army seemed to hold their collective breath as the army beyond the gates came forward, the numbers of Orcs that should be impossible with the losses outside Minis Tirith. Huge hulking Ogres were mixed among the ranks.

With a deep breath Éomer drew his sword, moments behind Aragorn who was standing in the front, flanked by Gimli, Legolas and Gandalf. Next to him, Haldir calmly drew and arrow and set it to the string of his bow, hands steady, keen gaze scanning the massing force.

Aragorn turned to face the army; sword raised. He raised his voice, “For Frodo!” and the cry carried through the army, as they surged toward the approaching horde of foul creatures.

Éomer was vaguely aware of Haldir and Legolas firing arrows into the Orcs until they were too close. From there it degenerated into a wild melee, blood crusted swords flashing in wild swings and short chops, screams and grunts filling in the air. It wasn’t long before his arm was beginning to ache, and his lungs burned but he forced himself to keep moving. To stop would mean death.

Haldir was a steady presence, never far from his side, blade stealing the life of an Orc every time it darted out. The press of Orcs seemed never ending and Éomer had no doubt they would be overwhelmed if the Hobbits didn’t soon succeeded in their own quest of destroying the One Ring.

Time seemed to alternately crawl and race by. Éomer’s shoulders were beginning to ache and he didn’t know how much longer he was going to be able to continue lifting his sword. Even with all the dead Orcs in front of and among the ranks it didn’t feel like they had made a dent in the number of hellish creatures facing them.

There was an unholy shriek from Mordor, and everyone froze. In the distance they could see the eye of Sauron casting around. As if in slow motion the great black tower began to crumble, and lava began to spew out of Mt. Doom. The ground under their feet began to tremble and Éomer watched as cracks began to split the earth, swallowing the hordes of Orcs still waiting.

Fright finally startled the Orcs surrounding them into action and they broke, flowing around the survivors. It didn’t save them, as the ground opened under their feet, leaving only them standing, surrounded by destruction.

Éomer slowly lowered his sword, watching as the others did the same. The seemingly endless Orc force they had faced was gone, as was Sauron’s tower, though Mt. Doom was still erupting, lava running down the sides and he felt his heart clench, because the two Hobbits had succeeded in destroying the One Ring, but at what cost to them. 

Aragorn turned away from the destruction, pain written across his features. He surveyed the survivors before glancing at their dead. “Let us collect our dead and go home.”

Sheathing his sword Éomer met Haldir’s gaze. There was the slightest hint of a smile before it fell away and Haldir bent to the nearest body. 

\-----

Éomer looked out the window, hands resting on the ledge. He was ready to go home, back to the rolling hills of Rohan, but he still had business to attend to here. Aragorn’s coronation would be soon, and he was expected to be there. He had already sent roughly half the Rohirrim home, most of them injured, with enough guards to make sure they were safe. No one was stupid enough to believe all the Orcs were gone and when he got back to Edoras he would have to see to it his patrols remained vigilant for signs of roving packs.

There was a single tap on the door and he turned to watch Haldir come in. The Elf was dressed in dove grey, hair falling over his shoulder.

“You still worry over the Hobbits.”

Éomer nodded. “How could I not. There is no way they could have survived that inferno.”

Haldir gave a smile Éomer had long equated with knowing a secret he didn’t. He padded to the Man and rested his hands on Éomer’s shoulders, fingers rubbing against the fine fabric of his tunic. “By now, I would think you would know wizards work in mysterious ways.” 

Éomer raised a hand, brushing his fingers lightly against the fall of Haldir’s hair. “I have seen many mysterious things, though many of them have not been from wizards.”

“Wizards love mystery even more than Elves.” Haldir smoothed his hands up over Éomer’s shoulders before sliding down to cup his elbows. “Gandalf summoned the great eagles and they plucked Frodo and Sam from the mountain. Even now Frodo is recovering in Rivendell, under Lord Elrond’s care.”

The news lifted a weight from Éomer and he rested his forehead against Haldir’s for a moment before kissing him. “That is excellent news. The small folk have shown more courage than many people would likely credit them with.”

He leaned back against the windowsill, Haldir following. “I was going to see Éowyn. Would you like to join me?”

Haldir nodded as he stepped back, hands falling away. “Is Faramir likely to be in her presence?”

Éomer stepped away from the window and had to fight the urge to reach for his sword. It was a reflex after so long at war and it was going to be a hard habit to break. “Undoubtedly. I think he’s trying to get up the courage to ask for her hand.”

“I think any Man would be wise to gather courage before asking you for your sister’s hand.” Haldir smiled as he made his way to the door. “Though perhaps he should be more worried about asking Éowyn for her hand.”

The thought was enough to bring a smile to Éomer’s face and he opened the door. “Éowyn had her mind made up the moment she laid eyes on Faramir and I would never attempt to interfere with my sister’s choice in a husband.”

Haldir smiled as he opened the door, glancing at Éomer. “A wise decision, with the way Éowyn handles a sword.” 

That startled a laugh out of Éomer and he closed the door.

\-----

Tucked at the back of the hall Éomer watched as another person stood to toast Aragorn and Arwen. The room was crowded, hot and loud with the press of so many bodies in the space. Haldir was a warm presence at his side and if he turned his head just a bit he could press his face into the silken fall of his lover’s hair.

A roar rose in the hall as the toast was ended and Éomer raised his own mug though he didn’t raise his voice. Éowyn caught his gaze from where she sat with Faramir and he smiled, inclining his head towards her. Faramir wasn't one who would have been acceptable for Éowyn but now, with Sauron defeated, and seeing Faramir’s courage, Éomer knew he would give his blessing when Faramir finally came to him for it.

“Your sister looks well.” Haldir’s voice rose above the din.

Éomer nodded and moved closer to Haldir, free hand sliding out to rest against the small of the Elf’s back, the movement hidden by the stone wall and the press of bodies around them. “She does and in no little part because of the man next to her.”

He wasn’t sure what spurred him to say it but Éomer leaned down until his lips were near the point of Haldir’s ear. “She has already promised me her first born as my heir.”

Éomer could feel Haldir stiffen under his hand and he was forced to move back as the Elf moved back to look at him. “What?”

Haldir touched the braids in Éomer’s hair, done just that morning. “I would not stand in the way of your line. I understand your need to take a wife.”

Sighing Éomer rested his forehead against Haldir’s, pulling him closer. “I will not take a wife. I would not dishonour a wife by not being able to care for her the way she deserves, just as I would not dishonour what we have between us. You are my only Haldir and any child of Éowyn’s will be a boon to the throne of Rohan.”


End file.
